The Grey Lady
by K.E.Degz
Summary: AU Sequel to "The Second Sword of Braavos" in which Lady Cadenzsa Forel, only child of Syrio Forel, turns the fates of all of Westeros upside-down. Lady Forel plays the Hero to save Theon from a fate most gruesome, and Robb from a death most-painful, in this heart-wrenching love story/tragedy. But try as she might, the Gods will have their Fate. - Theon/OC. Implied Throbb. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything.

**Summary:**

AU. Sequel to "Second Sword of Braavos." This has been edited slightly for the story to make sense as a trilogy. ((A/N: Don't worry, I'll publish each one chapter by chapter, so it'll be fun to read along with!))

Braavos is an ancient and beautiful city of ships, wealth, and purple hulls. The world-renowned Courtesans of Braavos have their own barges and servants to attend them. With The Veiled Lady, the most-mysterious of these Courtesans, Syrio Forel had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.

* * *

_"Theon. Theon Greyjoy."_

_He wasn't sure where the voice came from, exactly, but when he looked up he saw it seemed to roll in over the sea with the evening's mist. From across the sea came galloping sounds against the surface of the water. He turned, and a great black mare was galloping towards him. It reared and whinnied merrily, its long mane of waves flowing in the sea wind. The strange thing was that it had brown eyes, like the kind a human girl would have. _

_"Is that you, Theon Greyjoy?"_

_The voice was of a young lady with a slightly foreign accent; it was the kind that flourished on the rolling "r" sounds, which almost purred like a kitten. Theon smiled at the mare. "I must be drunk," he said._

_"Not drunk, but asleep and dreaming," answered the mare, who shook her head happily. "Which explains why you're naked and not freezing. Do you often dream of being naked?"_

_Theon looked down to see his feet in the sand, his cock, and his pale belly. "Don't know. I don't often remember my dreams. But this will surely be one I'll remember. Talking horses," he mused, "what a laugh."_

_"I'm not a horse," said she, now sounding a little annoyed, "I just appear like a horse because this is the form the magic chose for me."_

_He laughed. Then he saw the mare's eyes looking very serious. Theon's smile faded. "Magic?"_

_"Naturally," said the mare, grazing the sand with her front hoof and prancing in place. "Don't you believe in magic? Surely this isn't the first 'spell' a woman has cast on you." The mare whinnied and batted her eyes flirtatiously. _

_"Alright, what's going on? Is this real?" asked Theon, his hands now on his naked hips._

_"Of course it is," said the mare. "And I'm very happy I finally found you. That is, of course, if you_ are_ indeed Theon Greyjoy."_

"_Of course I'm Theon Greyjoy."_

_"Heir to the Iron Islands, Theon Greyjoy? Ward of the Starks, Theon Greyjoy?"_

_"The same," he said, skeptical. _

_"Good," said the mare. "I'm glad I got in the right dream. I'd love to explain, since you look very confused, but I can only do this for so long, and I don't want to waste any time. I wanted to let you know who I was before it all happened."_

_Theon frowned. "Before _what_ all happened?"_

_"I came to warn you of your future, Theon Greyjoy. With your father refusing you this very day, and your own sister trying to fuck you - even though she's married with a suckling babe at her breast - your judgement of what is and what is not a good idea is naturally poor. You're on a path to self-destruction that will lead you to torture, mutilation, trauma, and - I think - losing your cock. Also, I think you eventually die. And that is all very bad news for me."_

_Theon's face went red and pink and purple with anger, even in a dream. "What do you know about that?!"_

_"I'll admit there are only a few things that I know. But I just know that you tried to fuck your elder sister. And I think that's vile."_

_"I didn't know it was her! _She's_ the vile one, trying to seduce me!"_

_"Agreed. To go to such lengths are quite vile. But you must admit that her reasons were valid. The Starks had you for a long time after the rebellion, and you know that your father is understandably suspicious of you and your loyalties. But I know the Starks, and I know you, and I know you feel you have something to prove. But let's not talk about that. I just wanted to tell you that you must not sail with your father and sister when they decide to storm The North while you all march South."_

_Theon paused, completely confused. "Are you sure this isn't a dream that I'm making up?" _

_"Of course I'm sure. When was the last time you had a dream like this?"_

_"I don't think I've ever had a dream like this," he admitted._

_"Exactly. So will you listen or not?"_

_Theon shook his head. "I can't take a giant talking mare seriously."_

_The mare stamped her hooves, rolling her massive head. "Well turn me into something better, then, that you _can_ take seriously!"_

_"Me turn you? I thought you were the magical one."_

_"This is the form that the magic chose for me. It does as it wills, for I am merely a vessel of the power, using the tool of the moon mirror. I'm in your dream, you must imagine me as something you can talk to and I'll become that. Just please, something with two legs."_

_Theon thought for a moment before approaching, running his calloused hands along the mare's front, back, and flanks, smiling. "I can turn you into anything I want?" he said._

_"Anything," said the mare. "But may I request a human woman as my form, considering that's actually what I am?"_

_"I think I can handle that," said Theon, closing his eyes and thinking of his favorite red-haired whore back in Winterfell. Her flesh the color of pale oatmeal, her taut ass and how the night air would lick her tits. When he opened his eyes again, he found her, standing with her feet in the sea, her nipples hard from the cold. She looked down at herself, her arms, her red hair, and then shot Theon a rather annoyed look._

_"_This_ is what you like, then?" she said. "Is this your favorite whore's body? You'd better not expect this when you see me in person."_

_"You said anything I wanted." She shrugged, rolling her eyes. Theon looked her up and down. "Can we fuck in dreams?"_

_"Did you hear me earlier when I said I was here to warn you_ against_ the path that involves you losing your cock_?"

_Theon looked up, frowning. She looked very serious, and quite desperate. She quickly composed herself, and began pacing the beach. Theon soon realized he'd completely forgotten her name already. _

_"Alright," he said, "tell me of this future. Are you some prophet? A messenger of the Gods?"_

_"My soul might be that of something similar, but I - in body - am simply Cadenzsa Forel. I have been blessed with this magic, like my mother before me, and her mother before her, who was a Dothraki Maegi, trained in the arcane arts. I will admit that she did blood magic, but I assure you that I have never touched that. I only use the gifts I was given by the Gods for good, like my mother taught me."_

_Theon frowned. "Did you say Cadenzsa Forel?"  
_

_Ros's body was blown away in the form of ten-thousand black feathers, and in her place was Cadenzsa Forel, the most beautiful Lady in the known world. She appeared like Theon remembered her the most-fondly, in that island blue gown that hugged her waist down to her hips, and flared out like the petals of a poppy flower. It was the same gown with the long sleeves and black ribbons that laced through them, and the same that she'd worn at the last Feast at Winterfell, the night before she left for King's Landing with her father.  
_

_She looked down at her hands, her gown, her dark-colored flesh and her gorgeous black curls which fell down to her waist. She looked up at him and smiled the smile he remembered - the same smile that stopped his heart in his chest, for her lips were full and dewy, and her teeth were white as pearls.  
_

_"I can't believe you remember me in this gown," she all but purred.  
_

_Theon gulped, his stomach tight. "I never thought I'd see you again," he whispered. "This is a dream," he said. "This is a dream." He said it again to assure himself that he wasn't going mad.  
_

_"Yes, this is a dream," she said, smiling. "But a very important dream. Remember the magic? My mother? My Dothraki grandmother?"  
_

_"I thought you said you were Braavosi."_

_"I am."_

_"And your grandmother is Dothraki?"_

_"She was. And my grandmother prayed to the Mother of Mountains for a beautiful daughter that would ride away from the Dothraki and break the curse that was on their house. She birthed the most-beautiful woman the Dothraki had ever seen, otherwise known as The Veiled Lady, who is a gorgeous and famous Cortesan of Braavos. It is from her that I have learned my lady-like ways of poetry and song and dance and conversation."_

_"Courtesan?" Theon asked, now a little amused. "We all called you a 'Lady' and your mother is a Courtesan?"  
_

_"Courtesans are not whores," snapped Cadenzsa. "They sell their skills, not their sexes."  
_

_Theon placed his hands on his hips and goaded "And if she's so beautiful then why wear a veil?"  
_

_"If you're good at something, never do it for free." She smiled. "I think you know what I'm talking about."  
_

_Theon circled her. "So your mother knows magic? And what about your father? He's the Lord? Is he still in King's Landing?"  
_

_"He should be," said Cadenzsa, sounding a little unsure.  
_

_"So he is a man of great power?"  
_

_"He is," said Cadenzsa with a great smile. "And he has left my mother and I a great amount of money for a dowry to the man I deem worthy of me. Who better than a future King?" Theon's tongue got caught in his throat suddenly; his heart began to race. "What I say is true! You will be King of the Iron Islands, and I will make it happen. And I will make it so you are wealthy, and I will train your army so that the Iron Born are not hacking and smacking brigands and blaggards, but proper Waterdancers with swords that all men will fall to. Your Kingsguard will be the finest warriors in the Known World."  
_

_"What do you mean 'worthy of you?'" asked Theon.  
_

_Cadenzsa shrugged, looking out to the sea. She looked back at Theon. "You know, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since we parted. I still have the bow you gave me. I've missed you."  
_

_"I've missed you." It was not so much a proclamation of love for Theon, but more a final ability to be honest with himself. With the War of Five Kings as his distraction, he hadn't dealt with all the pent-up feelings Cadenzsa had left in him when she'd ridden off to the South. That haunting look of regret in her eyes as she boarded the carriage with her Braavosi father gave Theon nightmares. _

_He reached out to touch her, first grazing his fingers along her collarbone, moving slowly, afraid that if he moved too quickly that she might disappear. He traced his fingers along the bone, and up to her shoulder, where he felt the black lace on her collar. And then up to her neck, to caress her cheek. She brought her hand up and caught Theon by surprise when she laced her fingers between his. It was exactly how he remembered her hands; soft and strong.  
_

_"Is this real?"  
_

_"As real as a dream can be," said the lovely Braavosi with a smile.  
_

_Theon took a long moment to let it all sink in. "So if I do these things, I see you again? And then we marry?"_

_"And you win the Great War of the Five Kings, of course, with your father's ships under your command, making me Queen of the Iron Islands, someday. But that will not happen if you attack Winterfell and take over."_

_"What are you talking about? You know that I would never attack Winterfell - "_

_"You say that now, but you will. Or, rather, you would, in order to gain your father's respect. He plans to attack the North while the Stark Lord is fighting south. You have many choices, but if you take the road which leads you to consecrating your faith to the Drowned God, abandoning loyalties and oaths made to the Starks, and fighting alongside your father and sister against the North, then you will suffer a horrific fate. I mean _horrific_."_

_Theon had to sit down on the sands to take it all in, the weight of his own body suddenly quite cumbersome. Cadenzsa, after a few moments, came and sat by him, her gown flowering out in the sand._

_"Listen," she said. "I know that this is all nearly impossible to believe. I know that you think that this is all just a stupid dream. But when my mother comes with her purple hulled ship, flying the banners of The Veiled Lady, you will know that what I say is true."_

_"So what do you want me to do?"_

_Cadenzsa took his hand and held on tight. "Don't worry so much. Just act like you're expecting us, and my mother and I will take care of the rest. And don't let them see you're afraid."_

_"I am not afraid of my father!" Even in dreams, Theon's voice faltered._

_"Of course you are," said Cadenzsa with a tiny smile, a laugh that reminded him of the larks that chirped in the summery spring of Winterfell. Why did she have to be so beautiful? So exotic? "All children fear their fathers to an extent. And there is nothing wrong with that."_

_Theon stood, now angry. "And just what would you know about that, then? What would some Braavosi courtesan's daughter know of the Iron Islands?"_

_"All the things you've told me, for example," said Cadenzsa, standing and brushing her gown free of sand. "Through the black mirrors I have thanks to my grandmother, I can see anything I want. I can see into the minds of men, and also into their pasts, their futures, their hearts, their beds, their days and nights. I will show you when we meet again."_

_Theon made a huffing and angry sound through his nose, like a pig snorting through slop. "And how do you know my father will listen to your mother?"  
_

_"He will," said Cadenzsa, taking his face in her hand. "Stand up to him. I know men like Balon Greyjoy. If you stand up to them, and show them you aren't afraid, they'll be quiet and listen. He needs to see that you're a man, a warrior. I know what you are, Theon Greyjoy, and I know the kind of man you can and will become, if you accept my help."_

_He studied her eyes; her poisonous eyes that had haunted his every thought like a sickness. "What if you're wrong?"_

_"What if I'm right?" And with that, she was gone, leaving nothing but the sea. _

_"Cadenzsa?"  
_

_Theon wandered the beach in his dreams for awhile in order to find her. He soon woke up, and wondered if the dream had been anything but. Then, an angry-sounding knock came at his chamber door, and his doubts were somehow erased.  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything. Trying to merge the books and the HBO adaptation. AU-ish.

**Summary:**

Braavos is an ancient and beautiful city of ships, wealth, and purple hulls. The world-renowned Courtesans of Braavos have their own barges and servants to attend them. With The Veiled Lady, the most-mysterious of these Courtesans, the First Sword of Braavos, Syrio Forel, had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.

AU. Theon/OC. Rated M for later chapters of sexytimes. Possible Throbb. (me gusta face)

* * *

**Theon**

Theon had been called to the Sea Tower very early that morning, quite violently, in truth, from the rapping on the door that came so hard he thought they might break the door down. Theon had dressed quickly in clothes that were plain, of leather and wool, all dyed black, but still with the shined black leather boots which were the closest to the door at the time. He barely had time to straighten his hair, which laid fourteen different ways thanks to the rough dreams he'd had that evening.

In the Sea Tower, he was awaited by Asha, his disgustingly lovely sister, his uncle Damphair, the priest, and his father. All three were glaring at him, and all three were looking quite like they'd had sleepless nights as well. Before Theon could say good morning and attempt to begin the morn with some pleasantries, Balon Greyjoy unfurled a parchment scroll that wafted a perfumed scent of strange flowers that were unfamiliar to Theon's nose.

"'To Lord Balon Greyjoy, soon King,'" read his father from the scroll, "'I, Syrio Forel, First Sword of Braavos, Chief Protector of the Sealord, and Master Water Dancer, do hereby offer the hand of my only daughter, Cadenzsa Forel, second of her name, to your youngest son, his _grace_, Lord Theon Greyjoy, soon Prince. It is with regret that I cannot be there with you to negotiate the terms, for I am obligated with matters of business, but I know that your youngest son will make a good husband for her. It is with '_great joy_' that I have heard of their blossoming romance, and am sending both Cadenzsa and her mother, my good-wife, The Veiled Lady, on their purple-hulled ship to the Iron Islands. With them, I give Cadenzsa's dowry of a ship full of attendants, Braavosi silks, Myrish lace, fine spices, five-hundred swords of Valyrian for your army, and ten-thousand Gold coins from the Iron Bank of Braavos. Cadenzsa is very excited to see her new home in the Iron Islands at Pyke. She will arrive tomorrow with my good-wife. I expect she will find a warm welcome.'"

Balon crumpled the scroll and threw it at Theon's face, his face twisted in an angry sneer. "And what do you make of that, _boy_?"

Theon could hardly believe it. "She did it..." he breathed to himself as he fumbled for the parchment on the floor, un-crumpling it with trembling hands. To an onlooker, it might appear as if he were nervous to see his future bride.

To his shock, the parchment read:

_"Theon, this parchment is enchanted. I'll see you soon. Don't let them see you're afraid._

_Cadenzsa"  
_

Asha came and knocked the parchment out of his hand, tearing it straight in two. "You fucking pig," she spat at him quietly. "A 'warm welcome'?" This was said loud enough for everyone to hear. She paced around him, circling like a vulture. "A Braavosi, eh? And I suppose your 'beloved' expects a crown just as you do?" She frowned, her jaw tight.

"If you are to take a Salt Wife, that is your business. But the Drowned God insists that a man's Rock Wife is Ironborn, as he is, as you are," said his uncle, somberly.

"_You_ take a Rock Wife?" said Balon, now standing and coming towards him. "Was this Cadenzsa Forel so bedazzled by your fine clothes and Greenland ways? Did you write her poetry and sing her pretty songs?"

Everything was happening so fast. Theon felt a little faint, as if the room was spinning. His face felt flushed and sickly, and from within him came a tiny laugh that made him feel just a bit mad. Asha came up to him and slapped him across the face, hard.

"Our father just spoke to you!" Asha screamed.

This rapped Theon back into reality, into the moment. "Strike me again, woman," he growled, "and see what happens."

"Oooh, no! The big, strong Northerner! I surrender!" japed Asha.

"Be still!" commanded Balon. "What father is as cursed as I to have you...?" he muttered to himself. "Answer me, boy. Who is Cadenzsa Forel?"

Theon gulped, his mouth dry. He didn't know what to say.

Who was Cadenzsa Forel? Who _wasn't_ Cadenzsa Forel? Who did not know the Dancing Master's daughter, Cadenzsa Forel? The mere thought of seeing her face again, of holding her in his arms again...

"Answer me!"

"She is Braavosi, hair black as night. She's brave and fearsome and beautiful and..." He then shook his head. "I am the rightful heir to the Iron Islands, and I need a Rock Wife to give more heirs and keep the Greyjoy line and name running. _That_ lying bitch -" he said as he pointed to his sister " - will not cheat me of my birthright!"

Uncle Damphair gave a long and chilling look. "You dare speak to your Lord Father in such a way..."

"My Lord Father," said Theon, keeping his eyes locked with Balon's, "will see Cadenzsa soon, and, with one glance at her, know that she will be the greatest Queen in the history of the Iron Islands. She will give me sons with black hair and my name - OUR name. She will bring us swords and turn the Iron Islanders into proper soldiers, not warring blaggards and brigands, but proper proven warriors that _all_ of Westeros will fear."

"You may have 'rules' on the Greenland, but here on the Iron Islands, we make our own rules. Or have you forgotten?"

"What would you know of it, woman?" Theon demanded. "If we are to make our own rules, then my new rule is that our future Queen shall be whomever I please it to be, and it pleases me that it is Cadenzsa Forel."

"While we are on the subject, nephew," said the old priest, "what of this offer from the Lannisters?"

Theon and Asha looked at their uncle. "What about the Lannisters?" asked Theon, wondering if this was also part of Cadenzsa's plan, which seemed to be growing more elaborate by the moment. She had said that she planned for his freedom in King's Landing while she was there with her father. But what else did the clever girl have up her sleeve?

"We have just this morning received an offer from a Tyrion Lannister, and a Lord Varys, Master of Whispers, from King's Landing in the Greenlands. They plan to marry Princess Myrcella to us, in hopes that we give our ships to them."

"Quite _popular_, aren't you?" spat Asha quietly, sneering at her brother in disgust. "Tell me, brother, do you like the thought of little girls in your bed?"

"I know nothing of that offer from the Lannisters!" said Theon. "That's the truth! The only betrothed I plan on having is Cadenzsa Forel." He argued them with such ferocity that he even began to believe it was all true; they had talked about marriage before, but never had they made anything official. But what else could he think? The dream had been anything but, and now the proof was here. Unless, of course, Asha - the bitch - had slit his throat while he slept and now he was in one of the Seven Hells. Truth be told, he didn't know to which underworld he belonged. While he was baptized in the name of the Drowned God, he didn't pray at all to any of the old gods, or the new. Perhaps in this moment, he was praying. In that moment, perhaps, his prayers were answered.

Balon was silent. He suddenly sank down into his chair, and looked not like Balon the Blessed, but an old, frail man, trembling with a terrible Palsy. Asha frowned, concerned. Uncle Aeron said and did nothing. Theon approached. Balon held up his hand, and spoke quietly now, his eyes a bit glazed over.

"As you like," he quietly said. "Tomorrow we shall greet Cadenzsa and decide from there. Go, now. All of you."

"Father...!" gasped Asha, going towards him. "Father, are you...?"

Balon waved everyone away, looking far-off out the window. Theon didn't know what mysterious magic was going on, but he quickly snatched the letter and left, along with Asha and his uncle.

His eyes quickly looked over the hand of the parchment. He smelled the paper, and touched it. The seal, now broken, was of a wax that was so dark a blue it almost appeared black. Asha slammed Theon against the wall.

"What have you done?"

Theon's rage piqued momentarily, then smirked. "What's the matter?" he said. "Can't stand the thought of me fucking someone other than you?"

She slapped him.

"Come on, harder," he said, his adrenaline pumping. She punched him in the jaw, causing him to stumble. "That's right! My Cadenzsa likes the sight of a man fresh from battle! Hit me harder so to please her more!"

"What have you done to Father?!" demanded Asha, her voice now cracking and afraid behind her harsh bellows.

"I haven't done anything," he said. "He's coming to his senses, and you should, too. Tomorrow we greet the future Queen," smiled Theon. "And I am going to fuck her raw when I see her. She will scream and cry out my name so loud that you'll be able to hear it all over the island. And you can go back to that old man with the withered old cock you've wedded." Asha raised her hand to slap him, but stormed away.

Theon leaned with his back against the wall, a bit breathless, but then realized what just had happened, and began to laugh hysterically. In his mind, he repeated the letter over and over again, and with each breath he took and step he stepped around the castle, he realized that that Red Comet truly _was_ for him. It was a sign for him to change his fate, and for him to become the King of the Iron Islands. And nobody was going to stop him.

He then realized how much work he had to do. The Bloody Keep's suites, while impressive, had not seen attention in many years. He'd already forgotten the name of the old hunchbacked Crone that was head of Housekeeping, but he summoned her nonetheless to his suite, along with Maester Wendamyr.

"As you may have heard," said Theon, pacing in front of them, "we will soon be receiving new guests, whom are my betrothed and her mother. These are Ladies of great import from across the Narrow Sea, and I will not tolerate anything less than perfection for them. They'll arrive tomorrow, two of them, along with all of their attendants. They will also be bringing a great amount of things with them for our treasury and armies, so I expect two of our finest suites to be made-ready for them."

"If I may, m'lord," said Maester Wendamyr, thumbing his chains, "may we know the names of these Ladies?"

Theon cleared his throat and raised his head high, his jaw a little tight, looking as authoritative as he knew how. He was beginning to feel like a Prince again. "You will be receiving Lady Cadenzsa Forel, and her mother, The Veiled Lady. They are Bravosi and will not be used to the cold, so we shall need many candles and a great deal of wood for fires in their rooms to keep them warm at all times." The old Crone wrung her hands nervously, glancing at the Maester.  
"And Gods be good, find the finest, newest, _cleanest_ bedlinens you can for their beds. If _I_ must endure mold, so be it, but I will not have my Lady do so." If she was to deliver him a crown, he would make sure she was as comfortable as possible. "Have we new rushes that aren't soaked with mold?"

"I'm afraid, my lord, not," said the old crone, Theon noticing how many of her teeth were missing. "Pyke rarely sees visitors."

Theon sneered, annoyed that Pyke had become such a place of mediocrity. He crossed the room and took his satchel of gold and handed her a handful of coins. "Then have someone go to the harbor in Lordsport and _buy_ some new things. And have a feast prepared for tomorrow. Maester Wendamyr, do you know of what they eat in Braavos?"

He shrugged. "I imagine, my lord, they eat food." He bowed low, immediately regretting his words when he saw the fury in Theon's eyes. "I shall do what I can to find out more of Braavos. There are a few books in our Keep of Essos and their culture. In the mean time, my lord, may I suggest riding to Lordsport and seeing if there are any Braavosi barges in the docks? They will be easy to spot, for the Bravosi always paint their hulls purple."

Theon paused and nodded. "A good suggestion. While we are on the subject, are there books on Water-dancing?"

The young Maester's tired brown eyebrows raised in question. "Water-dancing, my Lord?" he asked. "I'm afraid not. The Ironborn were never ones to, _ahem_, study the art of war from books. But I shall find you as many books on the culture of the Bravosi as I can."

"See that you do," said Theon. "now get to work, both of you. I'll check in on you later this day to see how you fare. And summon me a horse, I'm going for a ride. And have a servant come with me in case I buy anything."

* * *

Theon rode along the beach just outside Pyke's grounds, a young page no more than three-and-ten following behind. The sea air was fresh and damp, and the morning was oddly clear. He looked up and saw the Red Comet, blazing across the sky. He smiled. _I knew that was my comet_, he thought to himself, clutching the torn letter from Cadenzsa, feeling braver every moment.

He rode up along the coast, his horse whinnying happily at the feeling of the brisk sea water. In his dream, the night before, he and Cadenzsa were on this very beach. His grey eyes looked over the sea, wondering what Cadenzsa would think of the Iron Islands. He had told her many things about his home during her stay in Winterfell, that too-short month where she and he shared a roof. He hoped that she would like it; all he could do was hope and wait nervously for her.

Things were going well. Almost _too_ well, in fact. But they were not going well in the way he had expected them to. While his father was going along with Cadenzsa coming this way, he didn't like the thought of lying to him, especially considering he hadn't seen him in ten years. The look in his eyes...it didn't seem natural. Had that strange scent cast a spell on his father?

Theon, as he rode to Lordsport, began to realize that he had something to prove here. The Ironborn were not subjects - they were not slaves nor miners nor tradesmen. War was their only real trade, in truth, and the islands seemed to be going mad from it. War was bloody business, and the Ironborn liked it. Perhaps he could do good for them by taking them to war, and satiating their appetites for the taste of blood. While he was a proven warrior in Winterfell, nobody had seen that or even heard of it since he'd been gone. He was now a stranger to Pyke; nobody recognized him. The ones that even may have recognized him, like the old Maester, were now dead.

Theon's horse slowed as Lordsport drew nearer. It was not a long ride, and the page-boy was quiet the entire time. He looked behind him to see the boy, who was riding a few lengths behind. "Keep up with me," he called.

"Y-Y-Yes, m'lard!" said the boy. Theon rolled his eyes; they just _had_ to send him with the one boy with a stutter.

"What's your name, boy?" Theon asked.

"C-C-C-Cammon, m'lard."

"C-C-C-Cammon?" Theon japed, shaking his head. "Are there no teachers of speech in Pyke?" The boy, pale-faced and sickly looking, looked down. "Alright, enough of that. We just won't speak to her Grace, the Princess, when she arrives, eh?" He sighed. "But when we're in Lordsport, today, we are looking for Braavosi ships, or people who might know of Braavosi fare. Do you understand?"

"Of c-c-c-c-course, m-m'lard," squeaked Cammon.

"Would you like to know why we're looking for Braavosi things?" Cammon shook his head, then nodded stupidly for he realized that it was the correct answer. "Tomorrow we shall be receiving two very important Ladies from Braavos. And, if all goes well, the younger shall be your future Queen. Would you like that?" asked Theon, feeling his trademark grin spreading across his lips.

"A-a new q-q-q-queen, m'lard? B-b-but your sister, Lady Asha - "

"We shall not be worrying about my sister today, eh?" said Theon, frowning. "Today, worry about finding the finest things you can for our guests."

"Y-Yes, m'lard."

Theon rolled his eyes as they entered Lordsport. "Once Cadenzsa's dowry arrives, we're going to hire Speech tutors for Pyke to ensure I never hear a stutter again..."

The two dismounted their horses. Theon noticed the boy was not only as skinny as a half-starved seagull, but he had a bit of a limp. He was then reminded of poor Bran, crippled for the rest of his days. Theon patted the boy on the shoulder. "Be grateful," he said. Cammon looked at him a bit stupidly, but Theon didn't feel like explaining himself.

Theon and Cammon walked around a bit - well, Theon walked, Cammon hobbled - asking around about a hull or two coming from Essos. Finally, somebody pointed to the far end of the harbor, saying that there was a ship from Lys. It wasn't Braavos, but it was a start.

A plump merchant with a tallow-colored beard and brightly-colored tunic with an even-brighter longcoat was standing at the harbor, calling out to the Ironborn. He seemed to be overseeing the movement of merchandise. For being so round, he was rather tall. A shorter, slight man with black hair and darker skin was coming and bearing boxes.

"Myrish lace! Myrish green-nectar wine, so sweet, so wonderful on the tongue! You, there, young lady! One taste and you'll name your son after me! Tyroshi armor, all the beautiful shapes and colors! You, there! Come buy a beautiful glass vase from Volantis for your good-wife! All the treasures from Essos! All the lovely treasures! Myrish green-nectar wine! "

"Excuse me," said Theon, approaching with Cammon. "You have treasures from Essos?"

"Ah, a man of good taste!" said the Lyseni with a great grin. "What can I do for you, good ser? Oh, such a fine cloak you have - may I interest you in something from Qohor? They have the finest of fabrics-"

"I'm interested in things from Braavos, in truth," said Theon. "And I am no ser. I am Lord Theon Greyjoy, heir to Pyke and the Iron Islands," said he with a smirk.

The Lyseni gulped with a wide-eyed expression in his pale eyes. "My Lord!" he said. "I am your servant! What treasures from the Secret City Braavos do you seek? A Dancing Sword, perhaps?"

Theon grinned. "No, I don't think we'll need those," he said. "But I do have need for things like tapestries, carpets, probably some new rushes. Bedlinens and candles, too, perhaps. Something that will make two Braavosi Ladies feel at home in Pyke."

"Ser-erhm, My Lord!" said the Lyseni. "My trading partner, Soren, is from Braavos. If I may introduce him?

Theon nodded as the Lyseni brought his partner, a slight Braavosi man, adorned in black. He bowed. "Fatel Madesi, at a'your service." His accent was ten-times thicker than Cadenzsa's. He suddenly felt bad for poking fun at her about her poor Commontongue when they had first met. "How may'ah I serve you?"

"You're Braavosi?" Theon asked. "I seek things that will please the eyes of two Ladies of Braavos. They sail for Pyke and shall arrive tomorrow."

"Of course'a, my Lord." The Braavosi's accent was thick, and with many rollings of his "r"s. He smiled widely. "May I know the names of these a'Ladies?"

"Lady Cadenzsa Forel-"

The Lyseni gasped, as did the Braavosi, who clung to his partner's arm like a frightened maid in sight of a big rat. "C-Cadenzsa Forel?" breathed the Braavosi. "As in..._Cadenzsa Forel_? Does her father come, too?"

Theon frowned. "No, but her mother-"

The Lyseni ran back onto the ship, nearly tripping over himself, pretending to be called on by another member of the crew. The Braavosi's face went purple-ish red. "Does mi'lord speak of The Veiled Lady?"

Theon grew extremely annoyed. "Alright, what's all this, then? Are you men or mice to be afraid of a mother and her little girl?"

The Braavosi choked on his words before squeaking out "The Veiled Lady is a courtesan of beauty beyond belief!" He wrung his hands nervously. "They say that those who see her face fall under her spell forever. And her daughter! Oh, her daughter!"

Theon grinned, remembering her beauty. She was a bit odd-looking for the Westerosi's eyes, but to the Braavosi she must have been one of the greatest beauties of her time. "Have you ever seen Cadenzsa Forel?"

The Braavosi - whom Theon had already forgotten the name of - fanned himself wildly. "Oh, to speak of Lady Forel! Only child of Syrio Forel, Master Water Dancer and First Sword to the Sealord of Braavos! As beautiful as she is deadly! Keep your wits about her, mi'lord! For one glance of'a her eyes - her _eyes_! - they would burn a city to the ground!"

Theon smiled with a tiny inward laugh. He gave a slight nod of his head as he thought of her eyes, brighter than a dagger fresh from the forge. "When have you seen her last?" Theon asked, wondering if he had perhaps seen her in King's Landing.

"Only since last year, mi'lord! It was a'when she was leaving Braavos for to cross the Narrow Sea. Her mother soon followed after her, leaving a trail of jilted lovers behind, including the Sea Lord..." He then gasped. "But Fatel should not speak of such things! Such scandal... Oh! Wait! I remember seeing her once in King's Landing - or, at least, I thought it was her -"

"It very well could have been. She was in King's Landing for a time just before the War of Five Kings had begun. Do all Braavosi know Cadenzsa's name?"

"Only the ones with eyes, mi'lord!" said the Braavosi, smiling. "Fatel has had the great pleasure of selling to Cadenzsa a long blue gown, once-"

"-Blue gown? The one that has black lace trim and ruffled skirt?"

"The same! It is that color of island blue that is the color of the Forel House - Island Blue field with a golden sea turtle, holding a flower in its mouth. So Lady Cadenzsa sees'a this gown and buys it at once."

Theon nodded, making a tiny note of that being her house colors. "I love that gown on her," he said. "It makes her skin color glow. Should you have anything of that same color, I'd like it for her." The Bravosi nodded with a bow. "What else does she like? What other things have you sold to her?"

"Mi'Lord, another time, she has bought a pair of leather boots, and three pairs of gloves for her to Dance with! Does mi'lord seek Lady Forel's good favor? Are the rumors true?"

Theon had it on good authority that he knew what 'rumors' there were, but he wanted to hear anyway. "Rumors? What rumors?" Sometimes it was fun to play dumb.

The Braavosi gasped again, looked around as if he were being watched. Cammon didn't know what to think, nor did Theon. But they both listened intently. "Rumor has it that Syrio Forel, First Sword of Braavos, would not see his only daughter married to a Bravosi that was not good enough, nor rich enough, nor would make her happy. So, with his wife, The Veiled Lady, not wanting his Cadenzsa to become a Courtesan like her, insisted that she have a husband with a title, with riches, with honor...and Syrio Forel sailed to Westeros to find Cadenzsa a..."

"...A Prince," said Theon, his grin creeping across his lips. He remembered the first time she playfully curtsied and called him 'Your Grace' with a great amount of flourished 'r' sounds on her tongue.

"Yes! But nobody hears from Syrio Forel, until Cadenzsa Forel announces that she is leaving Braavos forever. Oh, so many tears shed by men...so many tears shed by men who would never see her in a Courtesan's silks, or barge. So many men would have killed for the chance for her to warm their beds! To be buried in her black hair!"

"And that honor shall soon be mine!" said Theon, clenching his fist. "We have received the letter from her father this morning. Cadenzsa Forel is _my_ betrothed. She will soon become Cadenzsa Greyjoy, Lady of the Iron Islands. And someday the future Queen." The Braavosi's eyes popped out of his head so far that Theon thought they might fall out. "And because of this, I need you to give me everything you can to-"

"S-Say no more, mi'lord! All the treasures from Braavos will be yours! All the things of the Veiled Lady's liking! All the things of Cadenzsa's-you know, I hear that her favorite color is this a'shade of red!" He brought a large cushion of a velvet so red that it could only be mocking either the flaming sunset or the color of freshly-spilled blood.

Theon frowned. "Are you _sure_ this is her favorite?"

"Of course, mi'lord! I know these things because her mother would not let her buy it, even though she wanted to! It is the poor that tend to wear brighter colors such as this, so her mother insisted on dressing her in dark blues and blacks... But, in memory, I seem to remember seeing her last in a color..." he ran to his wares and pulled out a gown that was the color of the night sky, with fabric as light and clear as a feather, or a summer breeze. It flowed and fell, like ashes, like paper, and it looked as soft as a lady's skin. "In this shade of blue, I last saw her. And her sword, around her hips. And I remember her wearing a strand of pearls! The Veiled Lady often dressed Lady Cadenzsa in gold jewelry and pearls. A fellow merchant friend of mine said once that the Veiled Lady said to Lady Cadenzsa - 'precious pearls to light up your face.'"

"I never remembered seeing her in pearls," said Theon. "But I'll take that dark gown. And white linens and silks. Cammon, go bring the horses. I'll need lots of candles, too, because Cadenzsa plays music at night. And let me taste some of that wine. Is it sweet? She likes sweet things."

"Her mother is fond of Dornish wines, I hear," said the Merchant.

"A cask of that, too, then, just in case. And I'll take Myrish oranges, if you have any. Oh, and should you have barrels of Braavosi oysters or clams, I'll take all of it. She loves oysters."

Theon didn't think it was possible, especially with all of the things that he'd come back to Pyke with, but the Braavosi merchant insisted on giving away everything Theon wanted at no cost at all. He said it was an honor to serve the future Queen, Cadenzsa Forel, soon Greyjoy. He also said that he would send word back to Braavos of this, and have the Braavosi people come more often to the Iron Islands to seek the new Queen's favor. With carts in tow of many fine treasures, Theon had Pyke cleaned from top to bottom and decorated.

Every servant, cook, page, and ward was cleaning that day. All the rushes were being changed, and everything was being dusted. Theon had bought a few carpets in black-and-gold that matched the Greyjoy colors. He also found a good deal of jewelry that he liked for Cadenzsa, but not knowing what _she_ would like, he decided to buy it all. At very least, he thought, they'd have some for the treasury should they have any daughters in the future.

As everything was cleaned, top to bottom, Theon felt Pyke come alive again. Nobody bothered him that day, not even Asha. Heyla - it turned out the old crone had a name - hobbled around like she hadn't moved that much in years. He could almost hear her bones creaking as she swept up piles of dust.

Theon smiled as he saw everything shine like it was new. The rooms were smaller than he remembered, and now that the cobwebs were all gone, they were much more impressive. He hoped Cadenzsa would like it all, for it was to be her new home. And she would see him, free, just like she had promised to.

He recalled the day that she had vowed to free him. They had been sitting together in the Godswood where he knelt and asked for her hand. She had said she wanted to, but she couldn't until he was free. Now he was free, for he was home, and he would be the future King of the Iron Islands, and give her the castle, the lands, the riches, the glory that her parents had wanted for her. He felt pride swelling in his chest so great, he didn't even notice the setting sun.

The next day they gathered at the harbor, the entire family, to give Cadenzsa the welcome he hadn't received. Even his mother, who was sick from the Cough, had come. She barely spoke to Theon and seemed to be a shadow of her former self. Theon didn't know what to think when he saw her, for she barely looked at him. Her strong jaw, her graying hair...he couldn't honestly remember if she had ever been beautiful. And on the horizon was the purple-hulled ship of the Veiled Lady, Theon's future mother-in-law, The Veiled Lady, and his future Queen, Cadenzsa Forel.


	3. Chapter 3

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything. Trying to merge the books and the HBO adaptation. AU-ish.

**Summary:**

Braavos is an ancient and beautiful city of ships, wealth, and purple hulls. The world-renowned Courtesans of Braavos have their own barges and servants to attend them. With The Veiled Lady, the most-mysterious of these Courtesans, the First Sword of Braavos, Syrio Forel, had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.

AU. Theon/OC. Rated M for later chapters of sexytimes. Possible Throbb. (me gusta face)

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**Cadenzsa**

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From the crow's nest of the ship, Cadenzsa stood and saw the Iron Islands for the first time. Her heart sped with both joy and anxiety, but mostly anxiety for what was about to happen. The only joy she found was seeing Theon again, and where he belonged to be, free.

"My lady!" Qahari called in Braavosi. "Your mother is waiting for you. She says its time!"

Cadenzsa's stomach grew tight as she climbed down, her trousers snagging on a splinter on the mast. She went below the deck to her Mother's quarters. The air was thick with the incense she burned, and she smelled a fire. In an iron cauldron, there burned coals and herbs, and a hot iron with her fate written on it.

"_Maisi_," said Cadenzsa, speaking in her mother's Dothraki tongue, one of the languages she spoke well.

"My daughter," said the Veiled Lady, who was sitting at her mirror. She was a beautiful Dothraki woman with a beautiful Dothraki nose and beautiful copper Dothraki skin. Her eyes were dark and hair was long and wavy. Her eyes were lined with the Dothraki war paint in such a feminine way, and black powder was around her eyes to make them look smoky and exotic. Cadenzsa sometimes wished that she looked more like her mother, instead of getting her father's flat-button nose and wild curly hair. But if she looked like her mother, she would still be a Dancing Master, as her father told her, so nothing would _truly_ change. This was the only time that she had her veil off, when she was with her only daughter. They spoke in Dothraki when they were alone, for her mother did not want Cadenzsa to ever forget where she came from.

"Today is the day of the rest of your life," said the Veiled Lady. "Today you vow yourself to your own Sun-and-Stars. Today you become the Moon of my Life to him. And you will be _Khaleesi_ of the lands that sit on the black salt water."

Cadenzsa didn't smile.

"You do not wish to be _Khaleesi_?"

"Of course I do, _Maisi._ I count the hours until I am the _Khaleesi_ of the Iron Islands that sits on the Seastone Chair."

A hard slap came against Cadenzsa's face; she did not stumble, for she was used to her mother striking her.

"You know what happens to little girls who lie? They cut their tongues out."

She didn't cringe, but hardened her jaw. "I don't want to be _Khaleesi_."

Her mother's face twisted into an ugly growl. "How dare you," she said. "Would you rather I use my magic to make you a Khal's slave? Have you raped and butchered like an animal?"

"No," said Cadenzsa, her expression neutral.

"Then what?" asked her mother.

"I never wanted to be a queen of any kind. All I wanted was to see Theon free from that terrible fate. And perhaps save the North in the process."

"Look what he did with his freedom. Look into the Black mirrors again and see what he did with his freedom. He is a lost boy and a future cripple. Be grateful he will never have sons."

"Theon Greyjoy is a man. And he will be a great King."

"You see the future that you wish for. I see the future that is."

"I can make the future what I want it to be. I can rearrange the stars if I want. The magic is strong. It is known."

Cadenzsa's mother smirked. "For someone who has hated and cursed the magic all her life, you sound-"

"I know."

There was a moment between them. "My daughter, do you know what this means for you? Today is your twentieth Name Day. Today you receive the mark from our Maegi mothers, which will release the magic within you, that has been with us since my mother's mother, and her mother's mother, and back to the Mother of Mountains."

"I know..." Cadenzsa began to unbutton her bodice. "And I know what this means for me. I want to save Theon. But I just didn't want him to be..."

"...Cursed with only one daughter?" The two of them locked eyes. Cadenzsa's mother smiled. "With one daughter and one alone, she will be your everything. She will be a _Khaleesi_, like you, and she'll be beautiful, like you. You know what will happen if we have sons, my lamb. The magic will drive them mad to be World-Destroyers." Cadenzsa turned around and let her shirt fall to the floor. Her mother came behind her and brushed her long hair over her shoulders. "When you have your firstborn daughter, I will be there with you, and cut her from your womb so you will never have to bear another child, or bear the Swallower of the World. I will make it quick for you, and give you milk of the poppy... After the pain of the birthing bed, it will feel better. And you'll never have to bleed again. Won't that be nice?"

A silent tear came down Cadenzsa's face. Theon deserved sons to have his name. But they had pledged their love to one another, and she knew that what he said was true when he said he would love her no matter what. She wanted to pray to some God, perhaps her mother's God, but she knew that the only prayer that will ever be answered will be the one that she makes come true. Cadenzsa supposed that she could leave him to his fate, but she couldn't bear to see him suffer in such a way. The sight of him crippled, skinless, toothless, white-haired...all because he was so lost. She couldn't let him become the freak. She couldn't let that ugly man take the light out of his eyes.

"Theon's father..."

"Wear the Red on your lips and make sure you kiss him first. He will fall under your spell and open his heart to you."

"Did you use the Red on my father?"

Cadenzsa felt the tension, the daggers in her mothers eyes, on her back. Her mother reached around and gave her a leather gag. "Bite down on this."

"No," said Cadenzsa, looking ahead.

"Lamb, bite down. You will scream."

"Cadenzsa Forel will not scream."

And the Veiled Lady pierced her daughter's skin with the red-hot needles that were in the fire, shaped to be the crescent moon which cradled the star-flower. She pressed it hard into Cadenzsa's skin, making it burn and coil, and she quickly removed the needles to let the stinging black paint sink in. Just as her word, though she shook, she did not scream. After the paint sat, The Veiled Lady wiped it away to see her daughter's new tattoo.

"Welcome to the service of the _Maegi_, my lamb."

When she was cleaned with ointments to heal her flesh in quick and clean time, her mother dressed her in a gown of dove gray. The gown was Pentoshi in cut but Braavosi in fabric, with a beautiful thick and warm silk. It was very long and lean and slender down the waist, and down the waist where it flared out in huge pleats int he back. The sleeves were open, like great capes of leaves around her thin arms. Her mother took her long hair and pinned it just away from her face with precious pearls laid in silver, and put raven-feather earrings on her. Around her wrist she rested a string of diamond and pearls. She took Dothraki war paint and lined her eyes, not enough for anyone to _really_ notice, but just enough to make them look mysterious and powerful. Her mother tried to put myrrh on her, but Cadenzsa insisted that Jasmine was the better choice, since it was Theon's favorite. Cadenzsa had new shoes of a soft black leather with a cunning little heel to make her look _just_ a hair taller than she normally was. She stained her lips with the Red, a potion to influence the minds of men, going over and over and over again what to do when she got there.

The three smallships were loading. The plan was that the attendants would go first to announce them, and to ensure that everyone was ready. Then, her mother would go, to plant the seed and charm everyone for her arrival. Cadenzsa would follow soon after, and put on the show, as her mother had called it.

Cadenzsa wasn't the kind of woman to use her beauty to get things. She wasn't the type of woman, really, to play the games of court and of power and of social play. The only reason, in truth, that she was so good at it was because she could see the truth in anyone's eyes. She could tell when someone was lying or telling a half-truth; her skilled eyes could see into the minds of men, and - as her father taught her to do - see what was real and what was not. It was because of this skill, this strange skill, that she could pass for a Lady and learn to say _just_ the right things at _just_ the right time. She was learning to think like a Lady of Westeros, and although she did not like it, she did not hate it either. Even better still, she had taken many lessons since she and Theon had last been together, and she now had a perfect Westerosi Commontongue accent, with not a hint of the Free Cities left on her tongue.

The sea air was wonderful on her skin. It was cold and looked like it was rainy, just like Theon had said to her of the place, but Cadenzsa immediately loved it on the Iron Islands. As she gazed over the town of Lordsport, where they were docking, she saw the people that would soon become hers. Thanks to the mirrors, she knew that it would not come easy, but she knew what she had to do in order to make them follow her and hail her as the greatest _Khaleesi_ - no, queen - of their time.

In her heart, Cadenzsa fancied herself a Forel, through and through. She was a Braavosi woman, as she had been raised, but through the stories of her mother's life as a child, she learned of many things about herself. Her long hair, for example, had started out as a childhood fancy, a long dream that could have never come true had her father not been Syrio Forel, First Sword of Braavos, for nine years. But when Cadenzsa began to learn to Dance, she said to her father that she would cut her hair when she was defeated in a duel. Now, at twenty, she had never been defeated, which was why her hair was so long down to the tops of her thighs.

It wasn't surprising that she was this way, for she learned that many things should be taken into consideration when a person is grown, and how they had become to be themselves. Ned Stark, for example, was more Arryn than Stark, and she knew this from her time in Winterfell. Maester Luwin, the dear old man, had been kind enough to give her access to as many books as she wanted. When she had been considering marriage into the Starks, she looked into what being a Stark meant. Honor and duty...those were things that Jon Arryn, Ned Stark's mentor, had taught him. The Starks seemed to be ancient, magical, impulsive things. Robb was a bit of a Stark, it seemed, at times. But when she thought about it, Bran was the only real Stark there seemed to be. Sansa was a Tully Princess through and through, and Arya...well, she was too young and too wildly confused to really know, yet. But Bran was a real Stark, like Benjen Stark. Poor Jon Snow wasn't even a Stark...Cadenzsa didn't really know what he was.

Theon? Oh, Theon. Poor, perfect Theon. He wasn't a Stark, but Cadenzsa saw in him how he had tried to be. She read about the great families of Westeros, and the Greyjoys...well, they were supposed to be crass things, somewhat abrasive. The members of the Greyjoy house were said to be well-build and attractive things with black hair, which was good because her daughter would fit right in with black hair. They were said to be violent things with War as their only true trade. How fitting, thought Cadenzsa, for a Dothraki Princess such as herself - such as her mother called her - to love a man with a heritage as bloody as hers. How fitting, thought Cadenzsa, that she would wed a man like she wanted; a Conqueror, who did not yet know what he was. Cadenzsa knew, though, for with her truth-seeking eyes, she saw everything in Theon that was both seen and unseen.

In Theon, Cadenzsa saw a scared, sniveling little boy that had been ripped from his home. She saw a man with something to prove, though he did not know to whom he was proving it to. She saw a man that was a skilled archer, a skilled rider, and a skilled lover, too. She saw a man that strove to be the best at everything he could be, and a man who always had a smile on his face. She saw a risk-taker, a proud King, and someone who - despite his horrible past - had so much love to give that he would gladly love her until the day she died.

Was Cadenzsa nervous about their marriage? Of course she was. But the thing that made it alright was the fact that she knew how it would end, and she knew that thanks to the magic mirrors of her mother's. She had asked the Star Mirror once how she died, and it showed her as a Queen, laying on a great bed in a castle by the sea. Her husband, old and wrinkled, with a crown of driftwood and iron on his head, holding her hand and kissing it. The thing that calmed Cadenzsa the most was knowing that she would be the one to die first, so she would never know the heartache of grieving her Theon, for she knew that her heart would never be able to bear the sorrow of living without him for the rest of her days.

She sighed as the sea spray came on her face, as they lowered her smallship into the water. Her two handmaidens had gone ahead already, and she was now alone with only the Braavosi sailors - adorned in brightly-colored silks - which took her to the shore. The smallship's silk tent was just enough to shield her from the biting winds on the sea, but when the silks parted, she could see the docks, and her heart skipped a beat when all the Greyjoy Bannermen were there to greet her. The krakken's golden arms shone in what little sun there was, as if to say 'welcome, your grace, to your new home.'

She saw her mother, and when she closed her eyes, she could hear - almost - whispers of what she was saying. She could feel Theon close, and when they stopped at the port, Theon ran up to greet her. She could hear his light-footed boots. He was always light on his feet.

The Braavosi attendants pulled apart the silk from the tent and Cadenzsa's heart stopped. Theon was there, free, finally, in the land of his father's father's father. He was free, and happy, and although he was not smiling, she could see that he was happy to see her. He gulped; Cadenzsa felt the heat in his eyes, and with her magic now awakened, she began to see the swirling red clouds of his lifeforce around him.

"Theon..." she breathed as he took her hand. His eyes went a little wide in shock at her voice; she said his name for the first time like it was meant to be pronounced in the Westerosi way. "Don't kiss me," she quickly whispered when he leaned down to her. As they walked up the port to the docks, she circled her arm around his. "I know. I'll explain," she said, hearing the confused thoughts chatter behind his eyes. "But first introduce me to your father, and I must kiss him first. Then I'll tell you everything when we get back to Pyke. Your father is watching - quick, say something to make me laugh."

Theon looked confused. "Like what?"

Cadenzsa burst into a big laugh and leaned against him playfully, covering her lips and white teeth with her hand.

"Your voice..." said Theon. "Your accent is..."

She smiled. "I know, do you like it?"

They reached the family, which was the sea's answer to the Starks. Theon's family...his mother, she assumed, ghost-like and mad, the poor thing, with her attendants... His sister, lovely Asha, who was tall and proud and fierce, and clearly not happy to see her. His uncle, the priest, seemed to be eyeing her oddly, but it was most-fascinating to see Theon's father, Lord Balon Greyjoy with his thin face and stark nose and Theon's eyes.

"Father," said Theon. "May I present my Lady, Cadenzsa, second of her name, of the house Forel of Braavos." She only had a moment to swallow her fear, and that's what she did.

She curtsied low, and then rose and kept her eyes locked on Lord Balon's as she came forward with her arms stretched out. "My dear good-father!" she said coming forward too quickly for anyone to oppose her kissing him on the corner of his very thin lips. She felt the spark of the spell, and when she pulled away, she knew what she said was very important to ensure that it worked. "I'm so happy you have come to welcome my mother and I to our new home in the Iron Islands, and take me as your new good-daughter. My love has told me so many things of you and my new House, and it brings me such great joy to know that Theon will someday be the King, and I his Queen, and our sons and daughters will be Princes and Princesses of the Iron Islands."

A beat. Cadenzsa felt the tension. Then a warm Eastern wind came and Lord Balon Greyjoy began laughing. Cadenzsa laughed, too, and her mother followed suit, and Theon soon did, too, but only because he didn't know what was going on. His sister, Asha, was furious, but she said nothing and only glared. Lord Balon then put his arm around Cadenzsa and said:

"I don't think we've had a reason to celebrate here until now. I'll raise the bannermen soon, and we'll have an attack on the Greenlands like none have ever seen. The Ironborn will reave and pillage once again. Would you like that, my dear?"

"I think I would, Father," said Cadenzsa with a smile. It was strange to call such a pale and skinny man 'father, but Cadenzsa did it in order to keep the spell. It would last one week to the day, and in that time, she had to open his heart for real and find the thing which was blocking it in the first place. Until then, though, she could have him be jovial and mirror what she was saying, and when she repaired the relationship between him and Theon, things would go very well indeed. Either that, or her mother would do what she could to keep him under her spell, to ensure that they did nothing sneaky behind their backs. The game of Thrones was a tricky one, and Cadenzsa was learning to play it very well, now that magic had returned to the world.

Lord Balon guided her to the horses, and had - apparently - been so transfixed by the spell that he hadn't introduced her to anyone at all. But perhaps it was not the Ironborn way to have formalities as such? Theon would, of course, introduce her later at the feast, once she was able to explain to him what was going on.

"Well, my dear, how do you like the Iron Islands?" asked Lord Greyjoy.

"It's cold," she said. "I like it."

"It is a hard place that raises hard men, and hard men rule the world. But for our women... We'll have to find you some warmer clothes and start dressing you like an Ironborn."

"That would be nice."

"I hear that your father is a warrior."

"Warrior. Dancing Master. Sword Fighter... He was the First Sword of Braavos for nine years, and he taught me well. I should very much like to see how it is the Ironborn dance. I mean, fight. But once we are an established Kingdom, I should like to see our army. And when the fighting is done, I'd like to build a University of Combat to take everyone the finest warriors the world has ever seen."

"We shall see," said Balon Greyjoy, taking a horse by the reins. Cadenzsa could see that the will within him was very strong, like she expected it to be. She also could see a broken and bitter old man that was still licking his wounds from the loss of his two elder sons. She would get to the bottom of it, of course, like she always did. She had a great talent for people. A servant knelt to boost Cadenzsa onto her horse, which she ignored and stepped up and mounted with ease, which Balon Greyjoy found rather amusing.

There was a carriage there, one that Theon had probably had polished up pretty for them, but Cadenzsa decided to let her mother ride in it alone, for she had to show the Ironborn who their new Queen was. She had to show that she could ride as well as they could, and fight as well as they could, and kill as well as they could. And she did ride well, for she was Dothraki - like it or not - and riding horses was in her blood.

Her other had always told her that she was so good at everything because she was magical. Cadenzsa knew she was different, too, since before anyone had told her. Not because of who her father was or what happened to her. It wasn't because she lived in a Manse, and then a palace, but it was because she was born that way. She was different. They could all feel it, the children she had once played with - or at least tried to play with. She had known she was different, strong, pretty. Perhaps it was because she was _too_ pretty, _too_ strong, _too_ brave and different. Perhaps that comet was hers. Perhaps she shouldn't think about it so much, because she had work to do.

When she looked up to Balon Greyjoy, who now rode beside her, and the rest of the Greyjoy family and attendants followed in their own respective ways - from walking to carts to horses and carriages - he looked much younger, suddenly. He looked like the strong and mighty warrior that had sired Theon. Perhaps the Red wasn't so bad? Mother had said that it inspired a youth-like vigor in a man as a side-effect. She said that the Red made men do what she wanted. But it was nothing compared to the potion of the Golden Tongue. It took a full month to make, and only a tiny phial with seven drops was produced, but with each drop in a glass of wine, the magic was unraveled. For as long as the taste of the gilded wine remained on your tongue, all whom hear your voice must do whatever you say. Mother had taken it for so long and for so many years, her blood was probably gold at that point. But she didn't always need it...even when she didn't drink it, some of the magic remained in her, and - if she concentrated - she could still make anyone do whatever she said.

Mother kept a phial with her at all times. Cadenzsa only saw her use it a few times in her lifetime, but the result was amazing, and dangerous. It was a dangerous path to be a Maegi, a witch, but as the rhyme went:

All things in nature are in your sway,  
The power is in the word,  
Be careful what you say.

"Tell me, my dear," said Balon Greyjoy, "do you sail on the sea often?"

"Oh yes," she said, putting on her best 'Courtly' smile, as she had named it. "Braavos is a seaport city, and to get around in Braavos one must boat along the canals. I am as at home on water as I am on land."

"Perhaps my son can learn a thing or two from you," said Balon under his breath. Cadenzsa could also hear the confusion that was going on in Theon's head behind her. And she heard the rage in his sister's head, too. She was stirring up quite a bit of trouble already. "I hear you have weapons for our armies," he said casually.

"If the Ironborn will take them, of course," said Cadenzsa. "But I hear that the Ironborn's power comes from their ships and how they sail them."

"You hear right," said Lord Greyjoy.

Cadenzsa licked her lips, tasting the Red. "Which is why, I'm sure, that you will all find great joy when the Ironborn have a real war, again, when you all take King's Landing. And my Theon will lead the attack." How cunning and deceitful she felt, weaving her own will on Theon's father like that.

"Yes..." said Balon, his gaze a little far off. "I _should_ lead the attack myself..." That was his youthful vigor coming back.

"I think it best, good-father, that Theon leads the attack , and you can be here with my mother, and show us what it means to be an Ironborn ruler. You should sit here in your keep with your crown of iron and guard the castle. A wise King knows this is the best." But perhaps he wasn't a wise King? He rebelled ten years ago with their forces being outnumbered ten-to-one...

"Yes..." said Balon.

"Good-father, is that Pyke?" said Cadenzsa, pointing to the castle far ahead.

"It is, my dear, welcome to your new home. We have prepared a feast for you."

Cadenzsa felt a tug on her leg. She looked down to the shadows on the ground, and her mother's spoke to her: _Just keep it up until the feast tonight. I will take care of the rest_.

"How good of you to do so," said Cadenzsa with a smile.

Lord Greyjoy suddenly looked a little faint, as if the Red were wearing off. Then his mouth looked as if it became dry, and when he licked his lips the Red came over him again, and he began laughing.

"I do hope you like it here, my dear," he said. "Pyke is your home, now, so you may go anywhere you like in the castle. It is all yours, and your lovely mother's." He looked behind him to her mother, whose dark silk veil was over her face and chest. You could see the whites of her eyes, though, and the red of her painted lips. Mother would work her magic later on Lord Greyjoy; Cadenzsa didn't like it very much, especially when his wife was right there, but she knew that once Lord Greyjoy saw her mother's face, he would fall under her spell forever.

"I'm sure I will love it."

The party stopped and dismounted, got out of their carriages, carts, what-have-you. Attendants received them all greatly, and when they all saw Cadenzsa's mother step out of the carriage, all of the men puffed out their chests.

"My Lord," said Cadenzsa's mother, who came to Balon Greyjoy's side. "What's say we let his grace, the Prince, show Cadenzsa to her suite, and you can take me on a lovely tour of Pyke?"

"Father!" said Asha, who came up to him. "What about Mother? You haven't-"

"You will be _silent_ in my presence, little toad!" commanded Cadenzsa's mother with a gesture of her hand, making Asha recoil and swallow her tongue as if she were choking on it. Before anyone could say anything, The Veiled Lady placed a lace-covered hand on Lord Greyjoy's cheek. "Now, then, I think we have a wedding to plan..."

Theon came to Cadenzsa's side and escorted her into Pyke's halls, which were higher than any she'd ever seen before. The vaulted ceilings, the tapestries, the candles...it was all quite impressive! Theon guided her, wordlessly, to her suite in The Bloody Keep - what a name for that! - that just happened to be adjacent to his.

He opened the door for her, and inside she found that her room was covered in Braavosi silks and comforts, with clean red rushes of fine linens and coverings of silks and furs. Her bed and tables were littered with gifts; although she was not the kind of woman that took great joy in wallowing in gifts, she very much appreciated the thought.

She turned around and smiled, taking a kerchief from her pocket and wiping her lips of the Red. "Thank you," she said.

"You want to tell me what's going on?" asked Theon with a frown.

Cadenzsa shrugged shyly. "I'm sorry I had to do this," she said, "but please believe me that there was no other way. I promise that it's only temporary, though, until I can fix it for real!"

Theon gestured to the closed door. "You enchanted my father to love you?"

"Now, now, Theon, I cannot enchant _anyone_ to love me! Love isn't something you can conjure up."

"So what did you do, then?"

"All I did was enhance the feelings that were there! Your father _wants_ to see you married and have a lovely daughter to give him grandchildren, but his pride and anger won't let him admit any of that." She placed her hands on her hips. "And, you know, it wouldn't have gone any better had I not used this way. I would have been humiliated and japed at, and sent back to Braavos. I would have much worse luck than you did, trust me! Well, say something! Don't just stare at me like that."

But Theon was staring. And after a moment of very awkward silence, he said "What happened to your voice?"

Cadenzsa blinked in shock. "My voice? I hired a speech tutor to better my Commontongue." There was a pause. "I thought you said you hated my accent! That nobody would take me seriously if I had it! Well, I lost it, for you, and I'm veritably re-arranging the stars for you! Do you know what your fate was if I hadn't come? Do you? Do you want me to show you?"

"Cadenzsa-"

"Don't! I'll tell you!" She crossed her arms and huffed. "Your family bullies and japes at you, humiliates you. Your father plans to raid the North while Robb Stark fights in the south with his army. You attack with your uncle and sister, and for some reason of wanting to prove to your father - the man who _gave you away _like some _dog_ he didn't want anymore - that you were Ironborn, you attack Winterfell and take the castle, letting your emotional constipation spray the entire castle with disarray! You tell the Northmen - and yourself - that you can only fight for one, and that must be for your father. But why? _Why_, I wonder, when he clearly would have no real regard for you for he curses you for coming home, even though it was his fault that you were the Starks' for so long! And you know what? They siege your castle. You are betrayed by your own men - Northern and Ironborn alike - who leave you to the clutches of some ugly bastard that flays off your skin, cuts out the joints in your fingers, pries out your teeth! Gods, Theon, I think he might actually _rape_ you! And you're smeared with your own blood and shit every day to be reminded of what you are to him! Is that what you want?! Because if it is I will turn around _right now_ and go back to Braavos, and never see you again!"

In that moment, she realized that she had completely forgotten to look into the mirrors and ask about Theon's feelings, and - with creeping horror - wondered if the only reason he married her and she became the Queen of the Iron Islands was because she had to use the Red on him.

But Theon did not yell or scream at her. He gave a pained expression, clenching a fist to make the soft creaking sound on his moleskin gloves; something about that sound relieved the tension for him. Cadenzsa took in a breath and awaited his words. He was weighing his options, and she knew that he knew that one thing she would never do is lie to him. Finally, he spoke.

"Alright," he said reluctantly. "Just...do something for me."

"What is it?" asked Cadenzsa.

Theon gulped with a pleading glance. "Don't say my name like that anymore."

"What? 'Theon'?"

"No, not like that. Say it like you did before. When we first met. When I was making fun of you for it..."

She broke into a relieved smile and closed her eyes with a sigh. "_Tdhey-on_," she said with a thick Braavosi accent. He smiled the smile she was waiting for. "_Theon_," she whispered again, as he leaned in and kissed her passionately, running his fingers through her long hair like he used to. He then wrapped his arms tight around her and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He inhaled the jasmine smell, and sighed.

"I missed you so much," he said. "I never thought I would see you again."

"You had so little faith in me?" she joked, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I said I would see you free."

He pulled away from her with a grin. "I know," he said. "And I know that this is what I wanted to happen. I just didn't expect things to go around this way."

Cadenzsa laughed and cupped his whiskered cheek. "Neither did I, _shekh ma shieraki anni_. But we have work to do. And with my help, you _will_ win the War of Five Kings, and take back what is rightfully yours."

She felt his heart beat and swell, his eyes burn on her. Back in Winterfell, he would sometimes give her a long and sizzling look that made her feel so hot and aflame that if he stared too long, she might catch fire and have all of her clothes burned off. She felt him silently thank her for having such faith in him, and as they grew closer and closer, her kissed her again and picked her up by the hips and carried her to the bed.

Theon pushed all of the fine gowns and other gifts aside and ran his hands all over her body. She began giggling with joy as she sat up and began removing the leathers of his doublet. He parted from her lips and kissed and bit at her neck. She pushed his leathers over his broad shoulders and Theon let them fall to the floor. He pulled away from her with those bedroom eyes of his, and that smirk of his, and bent to remove her shoes.

"What did you call me earlier?" he asked, his hands running up and down her legs beneath her gown.

"S_hekh ma shieraki anni_,_" _said Cadenzsa with a grin, his deft fingers tickling the insides of her thigh as he rolled her stockings down her legs and set her naked feet on the cold stone floor. "It's Dothraki. My mother called my father that. It means 'my sun and stars.' It's a thing a wife says to her husband."

Theon smirked and rolled down her other stocking. "And what does a husband call his wife?" He disappeared beneath the skirt of her long gown as he playfully buried his lips between her legs. She took in a sharp gasp as she felt his skilled tongue against her flesh; she quivered as his tongue flicked at the pleasure-teat.

"_Jalan atthirari anni_," she breathed, waves of pleasure washing over her body. Theon hummed and mimicked the sounds against the swollen lips of her cunt, making her cry out

"And what does that mean?" he said as he appeared from beneath her skirt, taking his tunic off and turning her over to unbutton and unlace the back of her gown.

"Moon of my life," said Cadenzsa. He stood her up and peeled her fine gray gown off of her skin. She hopped playfully up and wrapped her legs around his hips.

"Moon of my life," said Theon into her hair, and he kissed her ear, her neck, her shoulder, and all the way down to her breasts where he took her nipple into his mouth.

"Oh, Theon..." She said his name the way he liked it, and he liked it very much, which he showed by the way he made love to her.

She didn't realize how much she had indeed missed him until that moment. He had missed her, too, which seemed a miracle in and of itself. He was so tender with her, and so sweet; the way he gingerly tugged off her smallclothes with his teeth, and the way his fingers ran over her skin. Everything they did was slow and tender, as if both were afraid that if they went too fast and too furiously that they might awaken from the dream that was keeping them together.

But as Theon laid her head back on the soft pillows of her new bed in her new suite, and kissed her lovingly on her closed eyes, Cadenzsa knew that her home was now-and-forever the Iron Islands, and Theon would never let her away from him again. And when he entered her, she heard him moan "Moon of my life" lovingly into her ear.


	4. Chapter 4

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything.

**Summary:**

AU. Sequel to "Second Sword of Braavos." This has been edited slightly for the story to make sense as a trilogy. ((A/N: Don't worry, I'll publish each one chapter by chapter, so it'll be fun to read along with!))

Braavos is an ancient and beautiful city of ships, wealth, and purple hulls. The world-renowned Courtesans of Braavos have their own barges and servants to attend them. With The Veiled Lady, the most-mysterious of these Courtesans, Syrio Forel had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.

* * *

**Theon**

* * *

Look at her. Just look at her. So amazing. And how she fit in, right in the middle of the feast, right at his father's side. Just look at her! So beautiful.

So elegant.

So powerful.

So exotic, with lips red as fire!

It was no wonder that Cadenzsa turned out the way she did, with such a beauty as a mother. And she certainly had been right about the Veil...if Theon was a woman and had a beautiful face like that, he'd cover it and charge for a glimpse. And everyone in the Iron Islands was absolutely under her spell, for all the men - Theon's father included - were smiling at her and laughing at all of her jokes, drinking toasts to her and all.

He wondered if that would be how Cadenzsa would look when she was older, but he guessed not, since she took more after her father than her mother. Theon took more after his mother than his father, too. Such things happened.

Theon hadn't spoken to his mother yet, but he was apprehensive to do so at the feast, not because he was afraid of her being angry about Cadenzsa and his engagement, but mostly because she didn't seem to recognize him at all.

When Theon glanced down at the far end of the feasting table where his mother was sitting with his sister, he couldn't help but see the glazed-over, far-off looks she kept on getting. Her Cough had gotten quite bad over the years, and ten years was a long time to go between mother and son being together. She kept on hacking through dinner, too, into a yellowed handkerchief. He barely recognized her, in truth, when he saw her. Perhaps she had been beautiful once? Or perhaps she had always looked that way, strong-jawed with Theon's nose. Her brown hair was elegantly pulled up and pinned, and he could see a few streaks of gray here and there, too. Perhaps she always looked like that, and Theon had just forgotten over the years.

"You should say something to her," said Cadenzsa, who had taken her rightful place next to him at the feast. Theon was about to protest and say that now was not the right time, but he lost his train of thought when he was reminded again how beautiful she looked in that gown he'd bought for her the other day. That night-sky blackish-blue. The gold ring she wore on her forefinger. She'd even been kind enough to wear the pretty gold chains and baubles in her hair he had bought for her, even though she really didn't like jewelry. And Gods be Good, did she look beautiful, especially with the night air licking her tits like that.

So instead of responding to what she had said - for, in truth, he had already forgotten what it was - he smiled and twined his fingers with hers and kissed her hand. "Of course, my Princess," he said.

She gave a shy smile and looked down. "I wish you wouldn't-"

"Why?" he said. "You were calling me 'your grace' when I was still a Ward for the Starks."

"That's different," said Cadenzsa. He was still getting used to her talking like a Westerosi, without that silly-yet-lovely accent of hers. He still liked the way she said his name, though, in Braavosi.

"Well, not for long. Soon, my love, we will wed, and then I'll go off to win the War. And the Iron Islands will be an independent kingdom once again. And then," he leaned in close, kissing the flesh on her neck where her jaw and ear met. "we will fuck, and fuck, and fuck until my father dies, and I'll be King."

Cadenzsa recoiled with a tiny laugh. "You shouldn't say such things when your father is sitting right on the other side of you!"

Theon nodded pointedly at his father, who was leaning in to Cadenzsa's mother, laughing and toasting. "Look at him. He's a hundred miles away. And we should be, too. What did your mother say?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "'Let me worry about it,'" she said.

"Exactly. So let her. She's got everything under control!"

She sighed. "It's that damn magic," she said quietly.

Theon grinned. "What's the magic? Being beautiful?"

Cadenzsa shot Theon a nasty look. "It's more than that," she said. With a sigh, his future bride looked down into her wine and thought of, perhaps, the right way to word it. "My mother is the product of magic. Her mother, my grandmother, the Dothraki Maegi, did a spell for a daughter that all of whom shall love with one glance of her eyes. It worked, of course. Even you can't stop staring at her."

He suddenly looked over his shoulder, back over to Cadenzsa.

"See?" she huffed. "I'm invisible when she's around. Just look at the men around her. All under her spell. That's the real reason she wears the Veil."

Theon's stomach grew a little tight, but when he looked at his new Good-Mother, and she smiled at him, he felt the anxiousness go away. Then he felt a hard pinch on the back of his hand and snapped his attention back to Cadenzsa, who was now looking a little more than hurt.

"Don't worry," he said. "If the magic really _does_ work like that then maybe it's a good thing?" Theon didn't know that. He was just talking to see if he couldn't make her feel better.

"But there's more to it than that. We can't keep your father under this spell forever. And quite frankly, the fact that you're so alright with it is a bit..." She then shook her head. "I don't know. I wanted this to happen. But now that it _is_..."

"My Lady," said Theon to her, gripping her hand tight. "I only have eyes for you. And I don't know what your mother did or is _really _doing. But my father is laughing and smiling, something I haven't seen in...well, I can't remember. But he's smiling and listening to what I have to say, and he's happy, now. And look, we are celebrating! The whole island is celebrating! We're happy. Why shouldn't you be, too?"

She gave a pained look, but Theon figured that women were just sometimes women and they could perhaps never be _truly_ happy. He turned his attention back to his mother, who was now staring at him quite seriously, hatefully. Theon's heart froze, and for a moment, he felt truly afraid, for that was the look a mother gave to the man that slaughtered her sons. Perhaps in her madness she was mistaking him for a Northerner. Then his mother blinked and looked around, as if lost, and then back to Asha. She kept on fiddling with Asha's short hair and fussing with it.

Then, his father's arm came around him and held him tight around his shoulders. Theon's heart skipped with joy, and when he turned to smile, he saw Balon Greyjoy smiling back at him, with a great and joyful laugh. He smelled that green-nectar wine on his breath, and with how thin his father had become, Theon was not surprised at how quickly he got so drunk.

He caught eyes with Cadenzsa's mother, who was quite easily the most-beautiful woman he'd ever seen. If he were not betrothed to her daughter, in fact, Theon might even be tempted to-

"People of the Iron Islands," announced Balon Greyjoy to the feasters and servants and bannermen alike. He then stood. "Today, we celebrate, for the Iron Islands will have a war once again! We shall spill the blood of Greenlanders and they will know terror at us! What is dead may never die!"

"What is dead may never die!" shouted back the bannermen.

"And we have reason more to celebrate, for _this_ gorgeous Lady - " Cadenzsa's mother rose, looking like an elegant dream in that black silk gown that clung to her generous breasts " - has been gracious enough to allow my son, Theon, to wed her lovely daughter, Cadenzsa Forel." Cheers errupted. "The wedding shall be within a fortnight, and on the day that my son weds Lady Forel's daughter, we shall sail for the Greenlands! The Ironborn will reave and pillage once again!"

"What is dead may never die!" shouted the Ironmen.

"We will take the Greenland ports for our own!"

"Yea!"

"We will burn down their houses! Rape their women!"

"Yea!"

"We will be a free and independent kingdom once more!"

"Yea!"

"What is dead may never die!"

"What is dead may never die!"

Theon joined, of course, with the cries and cheers. The Ironmen were hot with battle-blood, and Theon felt it. Theon felt his father be a Warrior again. And he felt himself be an Ironman again. And he wanted to bend Cadenzsa over and fuck her right there on the table in front of everyone, but she would probably punch him in the face if he did that.

His father turned to him and took his hand, then gestured for Cadenzsa to come forward. She stood shyly and came, giving a low curtsy, and then took his hand. Balon Greyjoy put their hands atop one another's, and looked as if he were about to say something. But then his face snapped to, and looked rather confused for a moment before Cadenzsa's mother came and whispered something in his ear. Then he smiled and laughed again and said:

"To my son, Theon, and his bride-to-be, Cadenzsa! For she is the rock!"

"For she is the rock!"

It was a thing that was from the wedding vows of the Rock Wife. Salt Wives had their own separate vows, of course, for they were more like concubines than wives. They were more things that you kept at ports you visited. It was in this way that the Ironmen kept from overrunning the world with Bastards, for any children that a Salt Wife produced were treated as Trueborn Ironmen. But the Rock Wife? That was a different story.

The Rock Wife is an Ironman's one true bride. She was the rock of your life, the one held in highest regard, and - most-importantly - the one that took your name. Salt Wives didn't take your name, they kept their own, but their children had your name and not hers. The children were yours to take and do with what you liked. If it pleased you to come back once every year and collect any children, you could. Or if it pleased you to have her raise the children by herself, you could. But the Rock wife was the one that was steadfast and there always should you need them.

The Rock Wife bore the children which were the most-important. The Rock Wife kept your home and keep while you were at sea. The Rock Wife was a beacon in the night, and the sturdy thing that you kept hold to when the salt and sea were too much to bear. The Rock Wife wore proudly the jewels and spent proudly the gold you got from the pillaging. She was your way of saying to the world how good you were.

Cadenzsa was going to be Theon's Rock Wife. He would drape her in diamonds and pearls and have her walk around wearing nothing but that to show her off. She would surely be the envy of all Ironmen and Ironwomen. And with her long hair and her fearsome sword, she would certainly gain quite a bit of respect around Pyke. Perhaps when he held Tourneys of his own he would have her compete wearing those diamonds and pearls, and watch all who dared to fight her go dumb at her beauty and her sword.

When she would be the Queen, she'd be the envy of every woman on the Iron Islands. She was already, after all, the envy of his sister, wasn't she?

When Theon looked, his sister was gone, and his mother was gone, too. After dessert, Theon went into Cadenzsa's room to see if she was up for a third fuck that day, but she wasn't there. What he did find, though, was just as interesting.

Her things had already been moved into her suite from their ship, and Theon - for the first time - got to snoop about and get a glimpse of the kinds of things she really liked. There were many gowns, mostly of black, and also many pairs of trousers and dancing blouses that were colored bright reds or blues or oranges. Theon found several gowns of thick red velvet in varying designs, and even found a great silk purple gown that bloomed out impossibly large to the back. It looked rather stupid, but Theon figured that perhaps it was the kind of thing that looked better when it was put on versus something just hanging.

In her jewelry box, he found things that he never _ever_ imagined her owning, and after rooting through the ridiculously heavy and out-there baubles and jewels and moon diamonds and rubies of impossible sizes, he finally figured that they must have been things that her mother had bought for her, but Cadenzsa never wore because she hated them.

He strolled around and found, on the shelves, stacks of old tomes and new books and scrolls of poetry. Her lute was laying on her bed, and there was a strange, crescent-shaped stone flute laying on her table. Theon thought of blowing a few notes into it just to see what it sounded like, but he figured that Cadenzsa would have plenty of time to play music for him throughout their lives together.

By the window, though, Theon found something very interesting indeed.

They were twice as tall as he was, and there were three of them. They were each covered with a velvet embroidered tapestry in a different color. The one on his left was a red velvet-covered one, a golden sun sewn in gold thread on it. The middle one was a regal-looking blue color with a white moon sewn in. The one on the right, though, was regal purple with a five-pointed star sewn in silver. When Theon pulled the fabric on the blue tapestry, it fell off to reveal the Black Mirror that Cadenzsa had spoken to him of.

It was a mirror, yes, but it wasn't made out of silver and glass. It was pitch black, and his reflection was not shown in it. He had heard of this material; obsidian. Dragon Glass. He touched the surface of the mirror, and nothing happened. Nothing magical, at least. He pulled off the tapestries from the other two, and the same thing...there was no reflection in any of them.

Theon frowned, crossing his arms. Surely, if Cadenzsa could do this magic, then he could too, couldn't he? He just had to find out how they worked.

Theon had heard of magic mirrors, but only in old stories. Magic mirrors were supposed to show you what you wanted them to show you. They were also supposed to speak in rhyme. But maybe they really didn't work like that? Maybe Cadenzsa didn't see anything at all in these things, but it was just her mother telling her to say whatever she needed in order to get a Crown?

Now that he thought of it, when he was on his own, he had, indeed, earlier found himself more entranced with Cadenzsa's mother than Cadenzsa herself. Perhaps her mother was the one that had the _real_ magic all along and Cadenzsa was just bluffing? Because if she really was this magical thing, then why didn't she use her magic when she was in Winterfell to keep them together?

And as his head became clearer, he realized that his father, maybe, wasn't really happy to see him at all? He was, after all, acting...not at all like himself. Now that he was free of her face, and her spell, he was thinking more clearly, and how he had seen his father flirting with Cadenzsa's mother in front of his sickly wife.

He took a few steps back and examined each one of them. They just looked like ordinary sheets of black glass. He sighed. "How does this work?" he said to himself. And the mirrors, upon hearing his voice, flashed the symbols of sun, moon, and stars. He stepped forward.

"Which one of you shows the future?"

The mirror on the right, the one that had the star, flashed bright. When he stepped slowly towards it, he heard a sobbing, faint and distant.

Theon came forward to the mirror on the right, and in the mirror he saw across from him a frail figure, hunched over and covered with tattered clothes, that looked stained with dirt and blood and mud and shit. Squinting, and tilting his head, he saw how the figure moved along with him, wispy white hair flowing.

"What are you?" he whispered to the reflection.

The sobbing became louder, and it turned to frightened whimpers. A finger - or perhaps it had once been a finger, for it was more a claw or a bone in tender flayed flesh that, Gods be good, had no flesh on it - pointed at him. From the reflection's hand, Theon saw that a few of the fingers were missing, and he looked down to see its haggard bare feet with missing flesh off its bones and missing toes, too.

"What do you mean?!" Theon demanded. "You're not me!"

The sobbing became louder, and Theon heard screams, and he heard a wicked laughing in the back of his mind that chilled him to the bone.

"Show your face to me! Show it!"

The figure came forward with stark-white hair, scarred and haggard shit-covered face, and teeth all broken and half-pulled out. And to Theon's horror, the eyes that stared back at him - the ones with no light left in them - were his own. Tears of blood streamed down his face, and disfigured and skinless hands and arms reached out to him, and then recoiled as if ashamed of what he was. The figure hobbled as Theon stumbled back in shock.

"W-Who are you?!" screamed Theon. "Are you me?! Is that my future?!" Theon was shaking, his heart racing and his flesh breaking out in a cold sweat. "This isn't real..." he said to himself. "It's that magic...it's evil!" As he did, he saw the figure change and become clearer and clearer. And the mirror spoke without words, but he heard them in his mind. He heard his own voice, only timid and afraid, and broken.

"_I'm not the Turncloak...I'm not him..."_ wept the voice. "_My name is Reek...it rhymes with freak..!_" The figure fell to his knees, and recoiled with pain for the figure's body was flayed. Theon could see it through the rips on his trousers.

"Turncloak...!" whispered Theon in horror. "Tell me what happened! Tell me what bastard did this!"

"_Please, no-"_ sobbed the voice. "_Don't call him that! Never call him the bastard_!"

Theon began to panic, for he soon felt the joints in his hands begin to crack, and the bones in his feet begin to swell and hurt, and then snap. He cried out in either panic or pain, and when he looked to his own hands, he saw the flesh on his little finger begin to peel away.

"S-Stop! Stop this at once!"

"_We can't stop it_!" wept the voice. "_We deserve it for how we treated her! For what we did to them!_" In his sobs Theon heard his own pained heart, and to his horror, tears began to stream down Theon's face as his reflection wept. _"And Robb...butchered at the Red Wedding... I should have died with him..."_ He heard the reflection become a bit of Theon again, and when Theon looked up, the reflection faded back and forth from the Reek and himself, clad in Ironborn Armor with the Golden Krakken on his chest again. On his normal face was a solemn expression, and then in his hand he saw the head of Ser Rodrik. Theon screamed in horror.

"_There are so many ghosts in Winterfell_," wept the voice, now of the hobbling freak that he was to become. "_And I am one of them_."

"Stop this!"

"_YOU WILL LISTEN!_" shouted the voice with a hateful, bone-chilling screech. And then it softened into heart-wrenching weeping and sobs. "_Oh, Gods, somebody give me a sword...please let me die as Theon..._"

Theon was shaking, and he felt his skin peel away on his fingers and toes. He tried wrapping his hands with his clothes, but when he looked back up at his reflection, it was far too clear what his fate was to be. And the worst part was he could feel everything that his reflection was.

"This is what she was telling me about..." he realized. "This is the horrific fate of what Cadenzsa spoke... She'll save me from you!" he shouted at the Reek.

"_She can't...she tried but she can't_," sobbed the Reek, his reflection, other-Theon. "_For you are too proud and stupid."_ The weeping changed from that of a broken and tortured man to the cries of a man who had lost the love of his life. "_Theon is dead...he died in Winterfell. I am Reek, rhymes with weak...and the Turncloak left his poor wife a Widow, there to be torn apart by his sister..._"

"Why do you keep calling me a turn-cloak?!" demanded Theon, tears streaming down his face, his hands now beating on the mirror's surface.

The vision changed to himself, in Ironborn Armor again, walking and sitting on an invisible bed, with a boy whom he recognized.

"_Its Prince Theon, now. I've taken the Castle. Winterfell is mine_-"

"No...!" breathed Theon in horror.

"_I'll never yield to you,_" said Bran's little voice in Theon's mind. "_We'll kick you out_."

"_You will yield to me to keep your people safe. That's what a good Lord would do._"

"Stop...!"

"_I'm a Greyjoy. I can't fight for Robb and my father both._"

"_Theon. Did you hate us the whole time?_"

"That's not me!" cried Theon. "I wouldn't do that!"

"_...Doing things I never imagined myself doing_..." Theon saw himself sitting in Winterfell in the dark of the castle with the Maester at his side.

"Stop this! How do I make you stop, you stupid mirror?!"

"Theon?"

"STOP SHOWING ME THIS!"

"THEON!"

The purple velvet tapestry went over the black mirror, and Cadenzsa's hands cupped Theon's face.

"You stupid fool, what were you doing?!" Her Braavosi accent came out in her rage, but Theon didn't care about any wrath he might have incurred of hers. In truth, he was shaking inside from the horrible visions. He couldn't stand, for he felt the skin on his feet wasn't there, and his cheeks were stained with tears. He sat there, slumped against the posts of her bed. Cadenzsa's hands held fast to his and she sat in front of him.

"_Shekh ma shieraki_, what were you doing!" she demanded.

Theon stood suddenly, nearly knocking her back. He pointed at the mirror in a furious rage and began screaming at the top of his lungs.

"What kind of foul witchcraft are you playing at here, woman?! What _sorcery_ is that?!"

Cadenzsa shook her head furiously. "I can explain!" she whispered, her lips trembling.

"Well then explain it before I throw that Evil into the sea!"

His chest was heaving, and his hands were shaking. As the pain began to subside, Theon saw - for the first time - Cadenzsa being afraid. He didn't know if it was of him, or of the magic, or of what he had seen. But he saw her on her knees, shaking. She bent her head in shame.

"You're supposed to yell at me back!" shouted Theon. "This isn't you! This was never you. Gods be good, woman, stand up! Yell at me for being in here without you, or something!" He walked past her and began to pace violently back and forth around her suite. "Has everything changed? Pyke is no longer what it used to be. My father barely looks at me, my mother is half-mad, my sister is... My uncle! He used to be this jovial drunken thing, and now he's a somber Priest to the Drowned God! And nobody recognizes me..." He sank into one of her chairs. "I thought that..." He shook his head, hanging it low. "Seeing you was supposed to be familiar. You were supposed to be the _one_ thing that hadn't changed. But even you've changed. The whole world is changing around me."

Theon looked over to his future bride, who was still sitting, leaning against her bedframe. It should have given him comfort to know that she was just as afraid as he was in that moment, but it gave him a greater pain to know that - perhaps, deep down - she was just like any other ordinary, weepy, weak little slut he'd bedded. She was supposed to be special.

"Well, say something!" His voice cracked.

Cadenzsa licked her lips and stood, turning and covering the mirrors again with their respective tapestries.

"You're a stupid man," she said, her back still turned on him. "Looking at these without me..." She turned around and shot him a dagger-filled glare. "What were you thinking?" Cadenzsa then briskly walked towards him, and Theon took some comfort in the fact that he knew she was probably going to slap him across the face. But she didn't. She instead sat on his lap and wrapped her arms tight around him. He felt her shake against him, and as he wrapped his arms around her, he began to see that perhaps he was supposed to be her rock just as much as she was to be his. "I wanted to keep you from seeing that," she whispered. "I wanted to show you the mirrors by showing something nice." He heard her sob, and felt her sob against his hair. He held her tighter; their fingers twined. "This wasn't a memory I wanted you to have. It's bad enough that I've been walking around with it." She sobbed again, shaking her head. Theon felt her tears on the lobe of his ear.

"When did you see this?" he asked, stroking her long hair.

She took in a breath and sighed against his neck. "When I was in Dorne," she answered. "I was to marry Prince Quentyn Martell. My father brokered an alliance with them. It was easy enough, since I am from Essos and..." She pulled away with a sad smile. "I just couldn't stop thinking about you. So there I was, in Dorne, awaiting my wedding day, when my mother came with the mirrors as a gift." Cadenzsa shook her head with a wistful grin. "I couldn't help it. I asked to see if you had a future as nice as I did. But you didn't. I saw you coming here and being rejected by your father. I saw you burning your letters to Robb Stark and taking on the Drowned God once again. I saw you take a ship and raid the shores of the North, and drown your prisoners in the name of your God. I saw you attack Winterfell. I saw you chop off Ser Rodrik's head. And I saw you hang the burned bodies of little Bran and Rickon - poor little Rickon - over Winterfell's banners."

Cadenzsa swallowed, as if she were going to be sick; she gritted her teeth as she continued to speak. "And I saw you be attacked by your men, knocked out... I saw..._him_. I saw him take you and pull out your teeth one by one." She began crying again. "I saw him flay the skin off your fingers and send them to the Starks as _payment_ for your bad behavior." She was shaking violently as she stood, walking over to her bed. "And I saw him smear you with blood and dirt and shit, and I saw him make you watch while he raped a poor girl..." Cadenzsa collapsed onto her bed into a pile. "And I saw it all... But I didn't see you die. I wanted to see you die, for then you would have peace...but he kept you alive as his slave." She shook her head. "And I couldn't. I just couldn't let it happen." She swallowed hard. "So I said goodbye to Quentyn and the Martells...and my mother made it so there was no ill-will between us." She smiled. "Poor Quentyn...such a sweet, sober lad. He would have been a good husband to me." Cadenzsa then laughed and shook her head. "I didn't even _think_ to see what kind of husband _you_ would be to me. I just did it. I just left." Cadenzsa laughed again. "Maybe I'm just as stupid as you are."

Theon's stomach was tight as he watched her, shaking, curled up in a ball on her bed. She was so slender and tall, it looked like a rag doll had fallen into the floor in a tangled heap, with hair all in jewels and chains, to boot. She left the Martell's for him? It was a family in Westeros that ruled Dorne for centuries, quite easily the equals to the Greyjoys. She would have been their Princess, and she would have liked it, too, for Dorne was full of sunshine and plenty of sea for her to sail on. He would have liked to been able to make a joke about his deft fingers and skilled cock was to draw her back, but he simply could not. So, instead, he stood and came up behind her on her bed, crawling to her huddled body and wrapping his arms around her from behind.

"You really did all that for me," he said after a very long moment between them.

Cadenzsa nodded. "I'm a stupid woman," she said, choking back more tears. "If you still saw that future in the Star Mirror...then maybe there's nothing I can do to change it."

He leaned slightly over to see her face; he gently stroked her cheek and wiped away a few of her tears. "I can change it," he offered. "Now that I know what not to do. _I'm_ not stupid." Cadenzsa laughed; Theon couldn't help but laugh, too. She turned around and nuzzled into his chest, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He had to admit, in spite of the horrors he'd seen only moments before, it was such a nice feeling to know that - even though they hadn't seen each other in so long - she still cared enough for him to do so many things like that for his sake.

"Want to show me something nice?" he asked, trying to lighten her mood.

She smiled and sat up. "We can try it," she said. She took her thumb and wiped off Theon's face; he had completely forgotten that he cried.

"If you tell anyone I cried-" he suddenly said.

"-I know. Our secret."

"Our secret."

She swung her long legs over the bed and walked to the mirrors. Turning over her shoulder to Theon, who was now sitting at the edge of her bed, she took in a deep breath and began to explain.

"As you can see, there are three mirrors. They are made of Dragon Glass, and are very, _very_ old. The Sun Mirror, here, is the one that shows you all things under the golden sun. It shows what is happening to a man, but it only works during the daytime." She gestured to the blue-covered one. "The middle is the Moon Mirror. I like this one. It lets you see into the Other World. With this one, it shows you those departed in the Night Lands. You can also use it to step into other people's dreams."

Theon frowned. "Did you use that one to-?"

"-I did," she said. "But you can only use this one at night, when the moon is high. And if you are still in the mirror when the sun comes up, you could get stuck in there forever." She turned to the purple. "And this is the Star Mirror. It shows your fate."

Theon's jaw became tight.

"But listen. The good thing about the future is that you can make it what you want it to be. My father told me this. It is known." It was so weird hearing her say 'it is known' in a Westerosi accent. "You can get around your fate by doing lots of things, like asking the right questions. You can say things like: 'what will happen to me today if I choose the red gown over the black gown?' or something. You'd be shocked as to how tiny decisions can affect our lives so greatly. And once you see _what_ happens when you do those certain things, you can begin to shape your fate as to how you would like it." She smiled. "Come on. Stand and take my hand. I want to see something."

The Ironman sighed and obliged, coming next to her, and standing in front of the Star Mirror. She took his hand and laced his fingers with hers, and pressed her full lips against his in a loving kiss; Theon felt his unhappiness melt away. As he gazed into her eyes, he heard the soft rumple of fabric. When he looked, he saw their reflection in the Black Mirror, years from now, dressed in simple yet fine garments, with crowns upon their heads. Theon's crown was of Iron and Driftwood, and he saw himself, older, a bit taller, and still ever-smiling quite handsomely. Cadenzsa was standing next to him, and smiling quite contently at him, with a crown made of gold and in the shape of sand coins and sea stars holding hands in a ring, all dotted with diamonds. Their reflections smiled at one another, and Theon's reflection took the hand of Cadenzsa's with a loving kiss on her fingers. Theon looked back at Cadenzsa, who was staring at herself in wonderment.

"It works," she whispered. "All we have to do is stick together, and we'll end up like them." A beat. "Won't we?"

The reflections of their future selves looked at each other with a grin, and then back at them with nod. Theon then looked at his own, older, yet equally-attractive reflection with the crown on his head, and asked:

"How do I win the war of Five Kings?"

His reflection took his Queen's Crown off her curly black head, and threw it over his shoulder into the black sea. Then he heard his own voice in his head, older, stronger, say: _"With the Iron Fleet_. _And her_."

Cadenzsa then shook her head with wonder and smiled. "The future King..." she said to herself, looking at Theon's reflection. The figures suddenly changed into one. Theon guessed that the mirror had thought it was another request of hers.

Before them was a tall young man, about Theon's age, maybe a little younger, but strong-looking. He was wearing the golden Kraken of the Greyjoys on his leather doublet, and a longcoat with a flared tail, quite similar to the one that his father would wear. His hair was black and curled, and his eyes were the same blue-green that Theon and his mother shared. His jaw was strong, and on his face played a grin as he held the crown of Iron and Driftwood in his hands.

"Who is that?" Theon asked, a combination between confused and amused at the boy.

The boy gave a silent laugh with white pearly teeth. He tucked the Crown under his arm casually and pointed at him and Cadenzsa. Theon looked to his betrothed for an answer, but she clearly had none for her face was ghostly pale.

"You're..." she began, "the future King of the Iron Islands?"

The boy nodded with a grin. A beat.

"Are you...marrying our daughter?" she asked, apprehensive.

Theon frowned as the boy laughed silently and shook his head. He pointed to her again, and Theon again. He gestured between them.

"Oh!" laughed Theon. "I get it. You're _our_ firstborn boy." The boy laughed and nodded.

"Oh, Gods..." breathed Cadenzsa. "Is it only you? Are there more of you? How many of you are there all together?"

The boy held up seven fingers.

"Seven?" laughed Theon. "We have _seven_ children?"

"You must have sisters, then? An older sister, perhaps?" Cadenzsa's voice was desperate, afraid. Theon was confused. The boy shook his head with a shrug. Cadenzsa quickly covered the Star Mirror with the velvet, shaking the vision away.

"Hey, I was talking to him!" said Theon. "Think of what we could ask! Don't you want to know what a great King I'll be someday? He could tell us everything! I probably tell him everything. Gods be good, he was tall... And there are _six more_ of him? You should be happy, he's got my face and your hair...he's got my eyes, too. Maybe the rest of them take after the Forels? At least I'll have one Greyjoy."

There was a very long pause. Cadenzsa said nothing. Theon frowned.

"What's the matter? Are you upset because he said we didn't have girls? Because we can change that. We can just keep fucking til we have some, if it means _that_ much to you."

She whipped around, her face neutral yet with a tight jaw.

"What's wrong?" Theon asked.

Cadenzsa gulped. She shook her head. "Nothing. Want to fool around?"

Theon shrugged with a grin. "Alright," he said, taking her into his arms. She kissed him with a strange kind of desperate ferocity that he hadn't seen in her before. She was probably excited about her future with him, mother to seven strong sons in her future. And the future was bright indeed. And as he fucked her, he felt rather invincible, even though she was somewhat hard to come that time. When she finally did, it was with a long, breathy sigh, as if so much pressure had been building up that her coming was her way to release it.

He was about to fall asleep when he felt Cadenzsa turn over onto her side. She pulled the covers and furs over her body to protect it from the cold. Theon stretched, and pulled her lovely black hair away from her neck and shoulders so he could kiss the junction of her jaw and neck when he saw a tattoo on her shoulder of a crescent moon cradling a jasmine flower in black ink. Did she have that before? he wondered. Theon had never taken her from behind so he didn't know. It was a nice-looking tattoo. He wondered if it meant anything, but was very tired so he simply dressed himself and went to his room to fall asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything.

**Summary:**

AU. Sequel to "Second Sword of Braavos." This has been edited slightly for the story to make sense as a trilogy. ((A/N: Don't worry, I'll publish each one chapter by chapter, so it'll be fun to read along with!))

Braavos is an ancient and beautiful city of ships, wealth, and purple hulls. The world-renowned Courtesans of Braavos have their own barges and servants to attend them. With The Veiled Lady, the most-mysterious of these Courtesans, Syrio Forel had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.

* * *

**Cadenzsa**

* * *

Everything was moving very fast, for in a mere week she and Theon would be married, and there was still much to do. She'd be Cadenzsa Greyjoy, and a Lady at that. And then a Princess. And then, of course, a Queen. She wasn't sure if the actual planning of the wedding was making her more anxious than her being royalty, but it was probably best not to mention that to anyone. Fortunately, much had already been done, and Cadenzsa was beginning to see the true benefit of the herbs and potions that her mother had been showing her how to mix.

For starters, Robb's proposal hadn't necessarily been rejected, but re-negotiated. Quite frankly, it wasn't the best proposal, and Cadenzsa was sick of seeing Theon be treated like a second-class bumpkin when she knew he was the Stark's equal. Sometimes she would wonder why it was so important to her, and then she remembered: Cadenzsa owed Theon her life, and she was going to repay him. So Balon Greyjoy would not be given a crown and bend a knee to the Starks; instead, he would join in the War of Five Kings as an equal, an ally, for the Iron Islands had just as much history as the North did, and the Greyjoys had ruled over them for hundreds of years. He would not pledge fealty, for the Greyjoys were not subjects to bend the knee to anyone. He would pledge an alliance, however, so long as the Northerners and the rest of Westeros recognized that the Iron Islands were no longer a part of their Realm, but a free and independent Kingdom of their own.

Another thing was that the crowns were being forged. The King's crown was being forged of black iron and petrified driftwood that swirled upwards from its thick band. And at the front of the crown was the Greyjoy krakken, splendid in its black color, and not a diamond or fleck of gold to be found. They were Ironborn, so their crown should be iron, too. Theon was to have a crown as well, smaller and of black iron and with the ten tentacles of the Krakken wrapping around and rising up from the band, as if it was the beast rising from the waves of the sea. Cadenzsa liked it on him, and thought he looked rather dashing with a crown on his head. Asha had a crown forged, too, of similar design, but she imagined that she wouldn't ever wear it. Cadenzsa's mother, however, had been sneaky and had a special crown made for her, too, which she presented to her while she was getting dressed that morning.

"But, _Maisi_," said Cadenzsa, "I don't think Queens here have crowns."

"It is your land, you may have a crown. And this one is special."

Mother sat Cadenzsa at her vanity, and had her look in the mirror. And when she opened the dark box of wood, carved with ancient characters that Cadenzsa knew as letters of the _Maegi_, she saw a crown of glittering gold and black diamonds. It was a crown of golden starfish that held next to golden sand coins, each dotted in the middle with black diamonds, and lined around the bottom with a string of pearls that ran all around the bottom. Cadenzsa almost fainted when she saw it.

"Is that-?!"

"Hush. Your grandmother never needed it."

"You melted down the gold! You melted Grandmother's golden belt! She told you that it was to never be harmed!" Cadenzsa felt like vomiting. Grandmother's precious golden belt, the most powerful magic they had...!

"Your grandmother was a sick, twisted woman." Cadenzsa inwardly japed at her mother's words while she continued. "And she had no idea the kind of potential this could bring. With the enchanted gold making up your crown, you will be the greatest _Khaleesi_ that the world has ever known. Power absolute will be yours, as is destined to you by the Mother of Mountains. And an even greater power to your daughter!"

Cadenzsa's mother put the crown on her head. It felt heavy, for Cadenzsa soon realized that it was solid gold, and gold was quite heavy in this state. Truly, it was a beautiful crown, and a thousand years ago when Cadenzsa was a pretty little girl, barely but _that_ high, before she learned to Dance and find her courage, she would have dreamed of it. She would have dreamed of the princess's life that she was now about to live, and she would have dreamed of her handsome prince to come and rescue her. But Cadenzsa was older, and her father had taught her to be her own handsome savior prince. But that didn't matter. Fate had decided that her life should be saved by a handsome Prince, no matter how many lives she took, or how many hours, days, months, years she spent with a Dancing sword in her hand. Fate had decided her to be a Princess, and then a Queen. Fate had seen it fit to see Theon Greyjoy come bursting into her life, and she wasn't going to let that slip away. He was all she had anymore.

"Do you like it?" said the Veiled Lady in the Commontongue.

"I don't know what to say," whispered Cadenzsa, looking at her reflection. She barely recognized herself.

Cadenzsa's mother removed the crown and put it back in the box. "I'm afraid it will have to wait. Let's hope it'll still fit you when you become the Queen."

"I don't think my head will get fat," said Cadenzsa, quite flatly.

"Let's hope not. You still have much work to do."

"I don't like this. Nor do I like how you're _charming_ Theon's father. The man has a wife, you know."

"A wife that is half-mad," said her mother, "and who barely notices me. She just sits there, looking far away. It's quite sweet, really, for she's probably still living in her head where her sons are all still alive."

Cadenzsa quickly stood up. "You might be half-mad, too, if you had the kind of Hells to pay that she's had."

The Veiled Lady, now simply Vanessi Forel without the veil, crossed her long copper arms. "And what do you plan on doing about it? She's of no use to us. I have to make sure that I keep Balon Greyjoy under my spell until Theon is the King. Do you understand?"

"I refuse," said Cadenzsa, "to accept that we just have to push her out of the way."

"She's only staying until the wedding, which will be at the end of next week," said Lady Forel with a sigh and a wave of her elegant hand. "Then you needn't worry about her. The rift between she and her husband is too great. It is best to accept that, my lamb. And don't even think about telling Theon about us. That classist little thing will call the wedding off immediately if he finds out we're not-"

"-I don't like lying to him! I don't like lying to anyone! The Forels aren't Highborn like the Westerosi are, _Maisi_, we're just have more money than God-"

A hard slap came across Cadenzsa's face. She stumbled this time because she wasn't ready for it. She slowly looked up. Her mother's eyes were wet with tears of fury. "_Your_ family, the Forels, have more money than God. And you listen here:" her mother's voice was harsh and growling and shaking through her teeth "they should not get the loyalty you have given them. They cast you out like a leper the moment you dared to do what you did. Remember?" Cadenzsa would have cried if she weren't Cadenzsa. But she was. So she swallowed hard the words that would have caused hot tears to spill had she said them. Her mother adjusted her gown and brushed her hair back. "Don't forget we're seeing the tailor today about your gown. You have a fitting. We're making it ivory, of course. Apparently he has many designs to show you. Lamb, are you listening?"

"I refuse," said Cadenzsa finally, brushing a lock of her black hair away from her eyes. "I'm going to make sure our plan goes through _without_ you sleeping with Theon's father." She then brushed passed her mother and stormed to the door. "My father could still be alive for all you know."

"He's not!" shouted Cadenzsa's mother after her, her voice filled with a twisted anger that can only come from a Dothraki woman. Cadenzsa stormed down the hall, angry tears beginning to well at the back of her eyes. She wouldn't let herself be seen crying, of course, and when Qahari found her storming, she found comfort in her open hands.

"My Lady, please," said Qahari. "Why such sadness?"

Cadenzsa didn't want to talk about it. Qahari was a loyal friend to her, but to burden her with the supernatural forces that were her new fate wouldn't be fair. Instead, Cadenzsa simply lied and said she was hungry. Qahari took her to the Kitchen Keep, which was held connected by a not-so-sturdy rope bridge, where the Greyjoys were about to break their fast for the early morning.

Asha was there first, of course, looking the same in those boiled leather black trousers and such. There was a great deal of tension between the two of them, and Cadenzsa guessed that the only reason Asha wasn't about to slice her in two was because there wasn't a battleaxe to be found. She didn't blame her, of course, for she knew that were the shoe on the other foot, Cadenzsa would be furious as well. Asha was a dangerous enemy, for she was fierce, proud, intelligent...she and Cadenzsa were very much alike. Were she not so fearful of her and what a threat she might be to her situation, she fancied her to be her new friend. But that wouldn't happen.

Theon came with his father. The tension was still there, and Cadenzsa could see. Behind Balon Greyjoy was the apparition of his younger self, bloodied and beaten and bruised, and the two ghosts of Theon's elder brothers, slain in the Greyjoy rebellion. They followed him around, and reminded him of his past failures. It might not have occurred to Cadenzsa had she not been given her powers of perception, but Balon Greyjoy was a man tortured with guilt, and the hardness of the Ironmen kept him from weeping and truly recovering the loss of his sons. Cadenzsa was slowly beginning to understand _why_ her mother was using the potions and magic to charm Theon's father, but it still didn't mean she approved of it.

They sat down to breakfast, and had almost begun eating when Lady Alannys came in, clutching a yellowed handkerchief that was thick with phlegm. Asha immediately got up to help her mother to her seat, who was frail. Cadenzsa smiled in greeting, and when she looked at Lord Greyjoy's face, she understood:

Balon Greyjoy couldn't face his wife after what he had done. Alannys Harlaw's memories were skewed, and broken, and in her mind and in the black clouds of her dying spirit, she saw all the hurt that her husband had caused her. Silently, they fought wars with each other in their eyes. They weren't Lord and Lady Greyjoy just then, but Balon and Alannys, the husband and wife that were grieving over their sons' death. Cadenzsa saw the horror in each of their hearts, and that the trauma she had endured made Theon's mother the shadow of her former self. She saw that she was once a powerful woman. And soon, as she watched the memories dance between the two of them across the long wooden table, Cadenzsa's plans were revealed to her.

And then her mother came in, all in a black wool gown of Bravosi cut with large, flaring sleeves that puffed like bells. Cadenzsa didn't rise, but the men did. She rolled her eyes, in fact, and sipped at her water goblet. And soon the servants came out with platters of food, aloft with steam and smells of her homeland. Poached eggs with butter-basted prawns, fresh bread and fragrant oils, soft white cheeses spread on toast arranged with fresh berries. And tea, of course; there had to be tea.

"My Lords," addressed her mother, holding out her arms with a great smile, "I bid you all good morning. Allow me to explain: in the Braavos fashion, a bride prepares a breakfast for her new husband the morning after the wedding. In the spirit of that, we have brought Bravosi cooks to Pyke so that you might share in our culture." Mother had a way with events, and a better way with speaking...Mother was paid as a party guest, to appear by the sides of visiting Magisters, or wealthy landlords, or philanthropists to the city, or sometimes even the Sealord of Braavos himself. A Courtesan in Braavos didn't sell their bodies, but their smiles, their music, their gracious laughter, their art of conversation, and - on occasion - their performance artistry or poetry. Mother was an entertainer, and a thousand years ago Cadenzsa was going to be one, too. She was going to wear the silk skirts and walk on flower petals. A thousand years ago, Cadenzsa was a plump little girl who sat around and waited for her handsome Prince; and that was until nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine years ago, when her father put a Dancing Sword in her hand.

Cadenzsa was one of the greatest beauties in all of Braavos, contrary to the popular Westerosi belief. She would have been the greatest Courtesan in all the world, surpassing even her mother's beauty, and the Nightengale's, and all the other famous Bravosi Courtesans that sailed around from port to port. She walked around Braavos knowing that she had the world at her feet, and men would send her flowers and sweets and jewelry day and night. Cadenzsa could have had all the city wrapped around her finger if she wanted it. But she didn't. Gods, she didn't. She didn't want anything to do with the world her mother lived in and she didn't want anything at all to do with the kind of world that would have been given to her had she chosen to stay in Braavos. But it would be best to save that story for whenever Theon actually asked her about it.

He smiled at her across the long table. He watched her as she sprinkled the crumbled white cheese on top of her salmon and eggs. He'd obviously never had fish for breakfast, especially not poached like that in wine and herbs and cream. He was either polite or curious enough to try it by mimicking what she did, and from how he smiled she could tell that he liked it. Balon Greyjoy made a face, which made her mother laugh, but the conversation between them about it eased the tension. Mother was a master at easing tension at meals, and if Cadenzsa was a master of Dance, then her mother was a master of courtesy and charm and conversation, as most Courtesans of Braavos were.

"Who?"

Lady Alannys Greyjoy's voice came up suddenly. Asha remained silent, but she looked like she wanted desperately to say something. Theon frowned in confusion; Balon let out a breath through his nose, and turned his face away, going back to his eggs.

"You there," she pointed a gloved hand at Cadenzsa's mother. "Who are you?" Cadenzsa saw a moment of lucidity in her eyes.

Mother smiled her best disarming smile, and said "Lady Vanessi Forel, ma'am? We had previously met when my daughter and I came for the first time to Pyke several days ago? Surely, you must remember." A beat. Cadenzsa saw the woman behind Alannys's eyes trying to grasp and sort out all of the memories of the past ten years, perhaps trying to put them in order for her to understand what was going on then. "My daughter is betrothed to your son."

"My sons are dead," said Alannys, quite flatly, her teeth a bit gritted towards her husband across the table.

Theon's face changed; Cadenzsa realized in the same moment as Theon that he had changed so much that his own mother didn't recognize him.

Balon Greyjoy's mouth opened to speak, but Theon cut him off. "She means me, Mother."

Cadenzsa's new eyes and ears heard the thoughts behind Alannys's wrinkled brow, furrowed with confusion and anger. The subject of Theon was obviously a very sore one between Balon and his wife, and in that flash of a moment Cadenzsa saw a great deal of hatred between them. The strange thing was, you could see that between that hatred was a layer of anguish. And beneath the anguish was a layer of sorrow. And beneath that sorrow was the love they had once shared; no man and woman that had been strangers ever looked at each other like that. The looks that were exchanged between Alannys and Balon Greyjoy were the looks of a man and a woman that had a history, and a very passionate and bloody one, at that.

And then Lady Greyjoy looked to Theon. They had the same nose, it seemed, thought Cadenzsa, whereas Theon had his father's green-blue eyes. It seemed as if Theon inherited her jawline, too, and perhaps the same cheekbones.

"You came home," said Alannys, her voice threatening to crack. "And nobody told me."

"You were there, Mother," said Theon. "You were there when Cadenzsa and her mother came. Remember?"

"What kind of a name is 'Cadenzsa?'" spat Lady Greyjoy.

"It is a Bravosi name," answered her mother, quickly. "She was named for her grandmother, her father's mother. She looks quite a bit like her. She's quite lovely, don't you think? And don't worry, your grandchildren will be quite healthy and handsome, I can tell you." Cadenzsa shot her mother a horrified look. "She's a healthy girl and will breed well, I assure you. All of the Forel women have had many children. Her father is the third of five, you see."

Her strong jaw tightened a bit, and then her eyes went to Cadenzsa, who suddenly felt rather small and rather young. "There is no House Forel on the Iron Islands," she said.

"No, my Lady," said Cadenzsa, suddenly. "I am from the Free City of Braavos, of Essos."

"Why?" she suddenly asked, quite clearly outraged at their presence at their breakfast table.

"Because I was born there," answered Cadenzsa.

Mother gave a sudden laugh; it was the dismissive laugh that she used when the situation at hand was quite uncomfortable indeed. "Forgive my daughter," she said. "I'm afraid she's not very familiar with the ways of the world, poor child." Cadenzsa swallowed a bit hard, her thumb rubbing against the handle of her butter knife, making the soft creaking sound which can only be made from skin rubbing on metal. She liked that sound; it was a satisfying one that - at very least - distracted her from the tension in the room, which was thick enough to be cut open with that very same knife. "But at least she's quite pretty to look at, isn't she?"

Alannys looked to Balon. "You're allowing our last boy to wed a foreigner?" It was more a question of shock than of anger or hate.

"I love her," Theon all but shouted, suddenly standing. The whole room fell dead silent. Cadenzsa heard herself gulp in shock. "I love her," he said again, looking quite seriously at his mother. "I said I would marry her and I will." Had Cadenzsa not been sitting, she might have fainted. That was the first time he had said that; the _very first time_. And he hadn't even said it _to_ her! He just said it! She hadn't even said that she loved him, yet. And the next thing she knew she was in the hall, clutching her chest, leaning against one of the stone walls in order to keep her balance. Theon, who came running after her, grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around.

"What in Gods' name is wrong with you, woman?" His blue-green eyes were flashing with anger and confusion. "I say I love you and you go running, full-speed out of the hall?"

She shook her head furiously, her lungs feeling like they might collapse. "That was the first time you said that!" she breathed frantically. "The very first time! You've never even said that to my face before!" Her hands began shaking.

"Do you have any idea how mad you looked just then? You ran away like you were mental!"

"I panicked!" she all but screamed, her breathing becoming labored and raspy. She began to drum her own chest with her open palm as if to steady her own beating heart.

"Why!?" Theon demanded.

"Because that's not the kind of thing you just _blurt_ out to your mother before you say it to the woman you actually feel that way about!" Cadenzsa began to pace madly, with a great amount of grand gestures with her hands. "You're supposed to tell me first so I don't have a hysterical fit in front of your entire family! And my _mother_, no less? You had to say that in front of my mother?! Telling a woman you love her is nothing to trifle with!"

Theon looked very confused. "Gods be good, woman, is there a name for what is wrong with you?" He stepped back from her and placed his hands on his hips, looking very annoyed indeed. He gave her a rather irked sneer. "You're not going to have this same kind of panic attack at our wedding, are you?"_  
_

"How should I know?! I've never been married before!"

"Cadenzsa, calm down, your face is turning red!"

"I _am_ calm!" she screamed.

Theon then took her hands and had her lean herself against the walls, and bend at the waist to let her head hang low. As she panted, he pushed her hair over her shoulders and fanned his hand at the back of her neck. She imagined that the way she was breathing, or rather huffing, she must have sounded like a fat mare in labor. When she was calm enough to only have her breathing sound like a wheezing pig's, Theon began laughing. He started out slow, then began laughing so hard that he fell with his back against the wall.

"You cunt!" shouted Cadenzsa as she whacked him on the arm, which caused him to laugh harder. And then when she began to beat against his chest with her hands, her own labored heaving began to turn to hysterical laughing as well. It wasn't long until they were both leaning against the walls, laughing like maniacs. Theon came then as their laughing calmed with his open arms and hugged her close; Cadenzsa buried her face into his shoulder and smiled.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice still thick with the remnants of their laughs.

"No, _I'm_ sorry," said Cadenzsa. "I suppose I just panic sometimes."

"I know," said Theon. "You haven't done that since I told you I was a hostage of the North." She laughed out loud. "You should hum more." Cadenzsa cocked her head in confusion. "You know, how you do when you're nervous?"

"I don't get nervous," snapped Cadenzsa, crossing her arms.

"Of course you do," japed Theon with a playful pinch at her rump. "You always hum to yourself when you're nervous. You haven't noticed?" She shook her head. "Well do it before you start to panic on our wedding day. I don't want to have to bring you back to life if you heave yourself to a fainting spell." Cadenzsa burst out laughing and bowed her head against the leathers of his doublet. He laughed into her hair and kissed the top of her head. "So do you feel the same way?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said into his chest, clutching onto him so tight so he couldn't pull away to see her face. "I don't even know what love means. I love my father. I love to swim. I love oysters with salt and lemon. But you? How can I know if I love something I couldn't define if I had every passing hour to ever pass?" She felt his chest shake with a tiny laugh. She leaned her cheek on his shoulder, holding on so tight as if she were afraid he might drift away if she let him go. "I don't know what love is. Nobody ever told me. But considering all the Hells I've been through and all the things I've done just to get here, I assume that I probably do. Either that or I'm unbelievably stupid." Theon laughed out loud.

"You're not stupid, sweetling," he said to her quietly with a grin. "You don't have to say it. I know you love me."

She pulled away with a relieved smile. "It's nice to know that one of us does."

He stroked her curled hair and playfully tugged one of the tendrils towards him, which caused her to fall into his lips with a kiss. His hand wandered down along her waist and he pushed her up against the wall. His tongue massaged hers sensually; his fingers came up and fondled her nipples through the fabric of her gown, which caused her to whimper unconsciously.

"What are you doing?" she moaned. When he pressed himself up against her, she could feel his hard cock beneath his clothes. Her arms came up around his neck as he bent and picked her up by her thighs, making her wrap her legs around his waist. She felt herself growing wet as he carried her by her arse into a side pantry room where there were burlap sacks of flour and gourds and potatoes.

"Theon..." she whimpered against his open lips and tongue as he sat her against the rickety shelves. He slammed the door behind him and turned her away from him to lean her against the wall. His mouth trailed wet kisses down the back of her neck as his quick hands ruffled up her gown to her hips. When he slipped his hard cock into the lips of her wet cunt she let out a breathy gasp. He gathered her gown at her hips and his fingers dug into her supple flesh as he fucked her from behind with a ferocity that he hadn't given her yet before.

He pulled her hair roughly out of the way of her neck and sank his teeth into the flesh on her tanned shoulder with a growl. "You really do like it dirty, don't you, sweetling?" he growled in a low voice.

Cadenzsa bit her lip with a sensual grin. "I like it with you..." She reached around behind her and gripped at his cock with her fingers, slick cum soaking her hand as it was sandwiched between them. Theon moaned and pulled them back, bending her over further towards the floor, slapping her taut arse with his open hand. She came hard against him in a rush, her nails digging into the flour-dusted wood on the shelves. But Theon wasn't nearly done with her, even though her thighs and the tops of her stockings were soaked in cum.

He quickly withdrew from her and spun her around. Theon's deft fingers quickly unbuttoned the top of her black gown and tore it off of her lithe body. His mouth came around her nipple and he sucked hard; she bit her lip to keep from moaning. He threw her naked back up against the door of the pantry and picked her up by her taut arse, forcing himself inside of her in one swift motion; she couldn't help but scream with pleasure. He spread her wide and hooked the backs of her knees on his elbows and went in a slow, torturous way, the swollen lips of her cunt feeling every thick inch of his hard cock. His mouth covered her nipple again; she shivered against the thick leathers of his clothes.

"Like that?" he moaned against her neck, grinding against her cunt sensuously.

Her arousal was so great that all she could do was dig her nails into his back and whimper "Harder..." into his ear.

With one swift motion he took her from the door and onto the floor. He turned her onto her hands and knees and began eating her wet cunt from behind, pumping his fingers in and out of her.

"Theon...!" she moaned.

"Wait," he whispered, his tongue then flicking around her arse, causing her to shiver. He pushed her head down as far as she could stretch and entered her slowly again. And he slammed into her hard. Again. Again. Gods, again. He dug his hand into her hair and pulled her up against his chest. He licked his fingers and reached around to her front, fondling the swollen pleasure teat there, causing her to scream so loud that she was sure that all of Pyke could hear what they were doing. His other hand then cupped her breast and he bit into the junction of her jaw and neck with a deep moan. They moved together, her knees scraping against the salt-covered stone floor with a strange, comfortable pained pleasure that made her cunt shiver around his throbbing cock. When he came she felt it fill up inside of her. He slowed with exhaustion.

"Theon, I haven't-"

"You did, already!" he whimpered into her hair.

"But I was about to again-"

"Ah, Gods," he moaned as he pulled out of her and flipped himself onto his back. "Get on top, then," he said breathlessly.

She couldn't help but laugh as she mounted him, the sensation of penetration causing Theon to cry out. She brought his hands up to her breasts and rocked her hips against his. A shiver went up and down her spine as she rode his cock, which was swollen with his pumping blood. She couldn't tell if he was moaning and crying out so much from pleasure or pain, but the fact that he was so willing to continue even after he came was good enough for her. His hands then gripped onto her hips and forced her to grind hard against him as he fucked her deeply. Her body then gained a shivering rush as if there was fire under her skin, and her cunt suddenly felt hotter than anything she had ever felt before. And she screamed at the top of her lungs as she came in a rush, slicking all over his belly and nearly-soaking their clothes. She collapsed onto his chest, both of their breathing heavy and labored, not caring that both of their clothes - which were pitch black - was covered in cum and flour and salt and dust from the floor.

"We..." She began to pant. "We should get back..."

Theon shook his head, his dark hair splotched white with flour. "I can't move," he rasped.

After a few moments of heavy breathing and gentle kisses, Cadenzsa was able to push herself up. Her gown was gathered and rumpled against her waist, and splotched with Gods-only-knew-what. The sleeves were binding her arms in an awkward fashion as she began to slowly dress herself again. Theon grinned with a crooked smirk. "You look good all tied up like that," he breathed.

The Bravosi girl smirked. "I happened to like being tied up," she whispered sensually.

He came up with a grin and covered her mouth with his. "Gods, you're amazing," he sighed into her lips. She smiled and curled her fingers through his hair. She wasn't one to gush, but he made her want to. He made her want to do all sorts of things that she'd never done before. She liked the adventurousness he brought out in her. She liked many things that he brought out in her. It felt good to think those things: I like, I like, I like.

Needless to say, it took quite awhile for the two of them to dress and brush themselves off enough so they didn't quite look they'd just been fucking on the pantry floor, but if a kitchen wench or someone had come in just then it would have been hard to explain it. Theon wouldn't explain, though, he'd just tell them they were fucking on the floor in the pantry. _  
_

"What are you doing today?" he asked as they walked together out of the pantry, a little worse for ware on the knees.

"Lots," she sighed, fixing the braided strand in her hair and tucking it with her black ribbon to the side, like it had been before. "The food, the wine, my gown fitting is today... Planning a royal wedding is a big deal. You're luck you don't have to do anything for it except for show up."

Theon brushed her long black curls to the side and smoothed them gently. "I can't be bothered," he said. "I have an attack to plan. And this will give you something to occupy your time with."

_Gods, he could be stupid when he wants to be_, thought Cadenzsa bitterly. "I suppose there's nothing better for a woman to do here, is there," she sighed.

"Well, I can't imagine what else you'd want to do," laughed Theon. "You can't spend all your time Dancing, now can you?"

That hurt more than, she was sure, he intended it to. To tell you the truth, she didn't think he realized what a dunce he was being just then. Of course, men had two heads and only had enough blood in them to operate them both at once, she heard. If he had been in his right mind, he wouldn't have said such a thing. He knew how important Dancing was to her, didn't he? Otherwise he wouldn't have spent all those hours in Winterfell with her, helping her practice her Water Dancing. If it wasn't for her Dancing, then what was she? Cadenzsa was a Dancing Master, and that was it. Her Dancing sword was her arm, her heart, and her soul. She wasn't a Princess. She wasn't even a Lady. She was just a very wealthy, very pretty Dancing Master. But her mother was probably right; she shouldn't mention it until after the wedding, even if she didn't like being dishonest in any way.

"I think I'd like to invite your mother to tea with my mother. Your sister, too."

Theon laughed out loud with that crooked smirk of his. "My mother might do it out of curiosity, considering your display this morning, but do you think my sister is the tea-drinking type? Only gowns she wears are ones of chain mail. She's not a Lady, like you."

_I'm not a Lady like me, either_, thought Cadenzsa.

"You just focus on your battle plans with your father. Just make sure you show up for our wedding day."

"I'll do that. But don't be hurt if it doesn't work out the way you want it to. My mother's lost her damn mind. She doesn't know me anymore." She heard the hurt masked in his voice. "She doesn't even know _her_ anymore. The woman is a shadow of her former self." And then Theon gulped away his sorrows, bent and kissed her on her neck and gave her a firm squeeze on the rump before walking away. Cadenzsa wasn't about to give up so easily.

She went back to the Kitchen keep and walked through the now empty dining room to get to Pyke's kitchens. The servants all bowed low and kept their eyes to the ground and called her 'milady' as she rummaged through the herbs that they had brought with them from Braavos, and especially through all the different, precious teas. The jasmine flowering tea that they grew on the Isle of Flowers, her home, was the special one she was looking for. That, and the Far-East Moss that grew on the rocks of the Jade Sea by Yi Ti. They had special properties of giving one mental clarity. Knowing that it was potent stuff, and rather green-colored stuff that would easily show up and be obvious, she took the blue cups and rubbed one of them on the inside with the moss. And in each one she dropped the dried jasmine flower, which had been bound up to be an unassuming-looking green ball. But when hot water from the tea kettle was poured on, the flowers bloomed at the bottoms of the cup.

It was rather a balancing act to keep that hot water and tea cups and kettle all on that tray on the rickety bridge, but Cadenzsa did it nonetheless. And in she came to the Bloody Keep where her new Good-Mother's suite was. She balanced the tray on one arm and knocked gently on the door. After a few moments of silence, she let herself in to a rather dark room with nary a candlestick in sight. The only light that came in was the light which streamed through the moth-eaten holes in the curtains, which lay in hanging tears over the windows.

"What are you doing here?" nearly-shouted Asha's voice from the darkness.

"I did knock," offered Cadenzsa, glancing around. She set down the tea tray on one of the nearby tables. "Gods, you're going to go blind in here," she said. And without another word she crossed quickly to the windows and tugged at the curtains, which made them come tumbling down in a crash. She covered her mouth in shock, and when she turned to apologize, she saw Lady Alannys Greyjoy sitting at the table, looking rather worn and confused. Asha came storming up to Cadenzsa with fury in her heart and murder on her mind.

"You have _no_ right to be here, you stupid foreigner!" She said it quite quietly, for she figured that she didn't want to upset her mother. Cadenzsa felt her anger, and heard what was on Asha's mind. The hurt and fury in her eyes, those blue-green Greyjoy eyes that were the color of the sea after a storm, was all towards her. Was Cadenzsa afraid of Theon's sister? Well, of course she was. But she wasn't going to show it.

So she smiled apprehensively then crossed the room slowly. "I thought I would say I was sorry about this morning. I have jasmine tea, from Braavos, to share with you."

"Like we'd ever accept anything from _you, _you poisoner," spat Asha quietly.

"Tea?" They both looked over when Lady Greyjoy seemed to snap-to.

"I thought you might say that," sighed Cadenzsa with a grin.

"Asha, dear, let her come," said her mother. Cadenzsa gave her new sister a curtsy and walked over to the table where Lady Greyjoy was sitting. "Come here, my girl, let me have a look at you." She crossed to the table and set the tea tray down. With a shy grin, she began to pour the tea, trying to concentrate more on the sound of the water filling the ceramic cups versus the burning hate in Asha's eyes towards her. "Gracious, child," said Lady Greyjoy, "What a mop of hair you have."

Cadenzsa laughed and set the tea cup in front of her. Asha came up quickly and gave her a hateful stare. Cadenzsa conceded with a nod and said: "Very well, if you're so suspicious," and then took the cup that was in front of Lady Greyjoy and put it in front of herself. She took Asha's tea and set it in front of her mother, and Cadenzsa's to Asha's. Fortunately, she'd been smart enough to think to switch the cups beforehand.

"Watch the tea blossom," said Cadenzsa, the hot water making the flower bloom in the cup like magic. Lady Greyjoy gave a laugh when the hot steam hit her nose. "Do you take milk in your tea, milady?"

"She takes no milk, two sugar," said Asha, who was now sitting across from Cadenzsa's chair. "Don't you, Mother?"

"Two sugars," repeated Cadenzsa, dropping them in. "We grow this tea at our Manse, milady. It's my favorite."

"Your...?"

"Our manse, on the Isle of Flowers, in Braavos." She sat and squeezed a lemon slice into her own cup. She took a sip of the tea. Asha smelled the tea, but didn't drink any of it. Lady Greyjoy sipped without thinking, and then, after a careful observation - that to the outsider would simply seem to be the new daughter wanting her new mother's approval of her contribution to mid-morning tea - she then saw a light go off in Lady Greyjoy's eye and give a smile.

"Amusing," she said. "Asha, dear, calm down. The foreign girl wants to make amends, it seems."

"My name is Cadenzsa, if it pleases, milady. And I thought I might invite the both of you to my gown fitting this afternoon."

"Gown?" asked Lady Greyjoy, a little surprised.

"For the wedding. I'm marrying Theon, your youngest, remember?"

"She remembers just fine," hissed Asha in a low voice. Now, Cadenzsa understood: Asha was protecting her mother. Little did _she_ know, Cadenzsa was protecting Theon's mother, too. She wasn't going to let her own mother get away with the disgusting things she could only imagine she was doing with her new good-father. The only way she could do that was to get Lady Greyjoy on her side.

Lady Greyjoy's eyes were green and piercing, and now seemed quite more alert. "Theon...my youngest," she repeated. "He's home." It sounded more like a confirmation than a question. "He's not seen me yet."

"He saw you this morning," Cadenzsa offered quietly.

"Do you think that's enough? I'm his mother, I should have been the first there to see him. It was I that brought him into this world." As she spoke, she saw the powerful, formidable woman that was Theon's mother had once been, coming back. The herbs had brought the same vigor and life within her as the Red had brought out in Lord Greyjoy.

"I'm sure you are right," said Cadenzsa. When in uncomfortable situations, it was best to agree with the angry party, if only to get the talking on something else.

"Mother," said Asha quietly, touching her arm.

Cadenzsa smiled with a wistful shake of her head. "You two love each other very much." She said it more to herself than to them. When it came to her own mother, she didn't know if she could love her. "You know, I'm glad to be joining this House. I've never had a sister before."

Asha pulled away in slow shock. Cadenzsa heard her thoughts of _how dare you_ and _we will never be sisters_.

Lady Greyjoy patted Asha's hand in understanding. "She's always had a bad temper," said she. "All of my children had terrible tempers. Well, except for Maron. He was a wonderful peacemaker between the four of them. He died, of course, in Balon's stupid rebellion."

"Mother!" gasped Asha.

"Well, it was. We were outnumbered ten-to-one! I told him not to go through with it, of course, but _no_. 'Balon the Blessed' was _convinced_ that nothing could ever go wrong for him." She snorted out of her nose, resting her strong jaw on her hand casually. "A woman can die from such a husband as him." Cadenzsa sipped her tea uncomfortably. Lady Greyjoy sipped her tea, too. Asha still had none. "This tea is wonderful, my dear. We must have it more often." They shared a smile. "You know," she said, looking at her. "You might do. But if you are to be an Iron Lady, you had better have the right wedding gown."

"So you'll come to the fitting, then?"

"Wouldn't miss it, my girl." And Lady Greyjoy sipped her tea, sighing happily. She then saw Asha's face, her trembling lip and wet eyes. Lady Greyjoy squeezed her daughter's hand. "Don't worry, my dear, once your husband dies, we'll go through this same fuss for you, too."

* * *

Okay! So this is the LONGEST chapter I've ever done for this particular story! Is it a little helter-skelter? Possibly. Did I NEED to put the sex in the pantry? Probably not. But also probably yes. If you read the books, Theon's ALL about sexy times and domination and, honestly, quite a bit of misogyny. So this chapter is a BIG deal for him, emotionally, of accepting the bad side and the good side of his love-story. But I thought it'd be more interesting if I put Cadenzsa's POV with it.

And would she freak out at love? Of course she would! She's pretty much been raised by a single dad and a whore(sorry) mom. She has no REAL example of what love should be, and every time she's even heard the word, a disaster happens.

Stay tuned. This is going to be fun. And we'll see Robb soon, I promise!


	6. Chapter 6

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything.

**Summary:**

AU. Sequel to "Second Sword of Braavos." This has been edited slightly for the story to make sense as a trilogy. ((A/N: Don't worry, I'll publish each one chapter by chapter, so it'll be fun to read along with!))

Braavos is an ancient and beautiful city of ships, wealth, and purple hulls. The world-renowned Courtesans of Braavos have their own barges and servants to attend them. With The Veiled Lady, the most-mysterious of these Courtesans, Syrio Forel had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.

* * *

**Theon**

* * *

Theon stormed through the corridor, Cadenzsa's harsh words ringing in his ears. She had shouted at him before, of course, but never like this. She had never once shouted at him to hurt him so, and if her intention was to shoot an arrow through his heart, she had hit the bull's eye. He didn't know quite what to do but leave. Was he ashamed of himself? He didn't know. He hadn't really felt shame in a very long time.

The poor girl missed her father. When Theon was away from his family, he at least knew what was happening to them, or how they were, but Cadenzsa's father was good as dead in King's Landing, from what he had heard. She held deeply onto the notion that he might still be alive, but Theon saying "_Well, at least you have your mother_," was the absolute wrong thing to say.

"_You have a mother that hasn't seen you in years, and you don't even care to go greet her by yourself! Do you have any idea what I would give to have a mother that actually loved me for me and not just for what I can do for her?_"

And then she started swearing at him, and it was hard not to laugh because ever since he had first met her in Winterfell, she had always a fun talent for mixing up profanity in the Commontongue. She would say thing like 'what the shit' or 'fucking holy' or something like that. It only got a bit scary when she started screaming in Bravosi, or possibly Dothraki. After his wandering, he soon found himself in the Great Keep._  
_

The Great Keep of Pyke was shining with iron. The Sea Tower was warm with candlelight, and it was much smaller than he remembered. He remembered when his father was a King, and remembered mostly his brother Maron, carrying him on his back and running around, screaming about like wild horses. The ghosts of his brothers were always with him. As Theon walked around, touching the cold stone on the columns, he remembered Rodrik. He was glad he didn't see Rodrik die the way he saw Maron die. Well, he didn't really see Maron die...he just saw him stabbed, and saw the blood come spilling out of his mouth. That was when Asha grabbed him by the wrist with a scream and dragged him down the hall and hide. He remembered it all.

He heard footsteps behind him. "What are you doing here?" he shouted at his sister.

"I live here," she said with a bit of amusement.

He didn't know why he was suddenly so angry at her, but it all flared at once. She had done enough. "You lying bitch," he said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" asked Asha innocently. "Still mad about when you came back? It's not my fault you didn't recognize me."

"Recognize you?! How could I? The last time I saw you, you-" He snorted. "You looked like a fat little boy."

"Well, I still recognized you," smirked his sister. "And to answer your question, I wanted to see what you were. And I did. That poor, misguided girl you brought here..."

"That girl's name is Cadenzsa, and you will learn to respect her." Theon's head went high. "She'll be your Queen someday, and you will _bow_ to her."

"Bow to her? That poisoner's daughter? Don't make me laugh."

Theon's lip quivered in a sneer, but then he looked up to see his father, walking in with several guards. Asha turned around.

"Father," they both said with a bow.

"The plans are made, it's time you both heard them." Balon Greyjoy said, laying down a great map on the carved table. Theon came over to look at the map of Westeros. "The Wolf-pup has gone south," began he. "with the entirety of the Northern armies at his back. While he tangles with the Lion in the westerlands, the North is ripe for the taking." Theon's heart got caught in his throat. What about the proposal they had made to the Starks? What about their pledge of alliance? "The Ironborn will reave and pillage as it was in the old days, all along the Northern coast. We'll spread out across the Greenlands, securing The Neck, and everything above." Theon saw his sister's crooked smile, the Greyjoy smile. "Each Stronghold will yield to us, one-by-one. Winterfell may defy us for a year, but what of it? The rest shall be ours: forest, field, and hall." His father wasn't smiling. He was serious. Theon recognized that look in his eye; the look of a fight. Balon Greyjoy lifted his head to meet his son's; their eyes locked in an exchange. The Red, that thing which Cadenzsa's mother had used on his father to give a youthful vigor, it seemed, had worked _too_ well. Theon's father was about to make the same mistakes of his youth that had cost Theon his brothers, his home, and his childhood, all in one fell swoop.

"Asha, my daughter," said Balon as he turned to his short-haired sister, "you'll take thirty longships to attack Deepwood Motte."

"I've always wanted a Castle," said his sister with a smile.

"What's my role in all of this?" asked Theon, frowning.

Balon gave a calculating look. "You'll take a ship to raid the fishing villages on the Stony Shore."

A beat. "_A_ ship? You give her thirty and I get one?"

"'The Sea Bitch,'" sneered Asha. "We thought she'd be perfect for you."

Theon hissed a long, forced breath through his nose. He then looked back at his father, his heart nearly pounding out of his leathers. "I'm to fight _fishermen?" _

"Be careful of their nets," japed Asha. They didn't know anything. Theon was the finest archer in all of the Greenlands, and his skills had only grown since he was a child. He was a proven warrior, who had hunted, fought, and won countless glories in Tourneys. But it didn't matter here. No matter what kind of magic Cadenzsa's mother had brought, he was still a child of ten to them.

Theon crossed around to come closer to his father on his right side. "Father," he began, "I've fought with Robb Stark. I know his men. They won't give up the North so easily-"

"-They won't even know we're there," said Asha quite loudly and flatly.

"What do you know of it woman?! I am a proven warrior-!"

"Your _brothers_ were warriors," said Balon, rather matter-of-factly, pointing his bone-thin finger at Theon's face, the same way he would do when scolding him for stealing sweet rolls from the kitchen. "Both of them are dead, at the hands of those you seem so eager to protect."

Theon knew this was dangerous waters he had sailed into. If he said the wrong thing, the whole of it all could come crashing down upon him, and what would happen to Cadenzsa then? Worse, what would happen to _him_ then? It took much longer than he wanted, but he finally said with a cracking voice "I'm not protecting anyone. I just wonder if it's not wiser to wait. Why fight the North when they could be our allies? Rise up against them and they could destroy us. But if we-"

"What are our words?" said Balon Greyjoy with a rather tight jaw. Theon gulped. "Our. Words."

Nobody had ever asked him that since Cadenzsa a year ago, when he put his dung-spattered cloak around her copper-colored shoulders and vowed to look out for her always. "'We Do Not Sow.'"

"'We Do Not Sow.' We are Ironborn. We are not subjects. We are not _slaves_. We do not plow the field or toil away in the mines. We _take_ what is ours." And then Theon saw the disappointment in his father's eyes; what hurt the most was that he had actually expected something from him, and Theon didn't even know it. "Your time with the wolves has made you weak."

When Theon shifted from that arrow through his heart, he felt Cadenzsa's gold chain lightly graze his neck between the leathers of his clothes. He suddenly felt braver; brave enough to say what he had been swallowing all of those years. "You act as if I volunteered to go," sneered Theon. "You gave me away, if you remember, the day you bent your knee to Robert Baratheon. After he crushed you. Did he take what was yours then?"

Balon Greyjoy's hand came up and whacked Theon hard against his cheek. He stumbled back in shock against the map-and-candle-filled end table. Even though his father was merely skin and bones, he still packed quite a punch that was a mere bee-sting to the stabbing pain and anger in his heart. As his skin burned and bones ached beneath that strike, Balon stormed away. Theon jumped up and ran after him.

"You gave me away!" he shouted, his father stopping in his tracks. "Your boy! Your _last boy_!" He felt his lungs beginning to tighten, his gut going painfully hard; his hands and thighs were shaking. "You gave me away like I was some _dog_ you didn't want anymore! And now you curse me because I've come home!"

This might have been the part where he turned around and did something along the lines of showing any emotion other than stoic. But that would not have been right. It also might have been when he walked away and left Theon to weep, were he the kind of man to do such a thing. But that was not what happened.

Theon's mother came in. It wasn't just Alannys, but it was his _mother_, as if she were suddenly back from the dead. Head high, jaw parallel to the floor, long hair that had once been brown-red was silvery grey, gracefully knotted up the way she used to have it when she wore it to Tourneys or feasts. Nobody saw the old velvet that was faded with time, or the wrinkles on her strong face; they saw the Lady Reaper of Pyke, Alannys Harlaw, once the most-powerful woman in the Iron Islands, coming in with her head held high like not a day had passed. Her eyes narrowed on his father, and she came to him so swiftly that nobody expected that swift punch that landed square on Balon's jaw, which caused him to go flying to the floor.

"You piece of shit," said she, causing Asha to gasp. "You warthog-faced buffoon." Balon looked up at his wife slowly, holding his bleeding lip. Theon saw in that moment just how old his father had become. "You bucktoothed little upstart prick from the Seven Hells." She kept her face neutral, stoic, with a tiny hint of a grin on her thin lips. "What? Nothing to say, you blustering old windbag? Hmm?" Alannys circled him slowly. "'Balon the Blessed,' they called you. 'Balon the Bastard' is more like it. Oh, didn't like that, you miserable vomitous mass? You pasty-faced little gremlin?" A beat. "What I'm saying is that the years have not been kind to you. You look like a damn shaved bird." If he hadn't been stunned so, he might have laughed at that one.

"Mother, please!" gasped Asha, rushing to her father's side.

"Look at you," spat Alannys. "You're a shadow of your former self. And do you know what saddens me the most out of all this tragedy? Out of the deaths of my boys? You have learned nothing. You're still planning to take on an enemy that will crush you without question, and send the last two children I have off to die." Theon was paralyzed. Balon Greyjoy slowly stood up on feeble legs that didn't belong to a King, but a broken old man.

"Alannys-" he began to say softly.

"Silence!" shouted his mother with a roar so great that it can be only rivaled by the Storm God's wrath against the sea. "You killed my babes." Tears began to brim at his mother's eyes. "You _killed_ my babes. You drank wine to their deaths when you took Rodrik off to war with you. And Maron! My sweet Maron! You had to take him too, didn't you? My darling boy. Everyone's favorite. You had to sentence him to die when he hadn't even left the island. You sent away my first two, and you'll gladly kill my last two, won't you, you selfish pig?"

Theon might have seen tears in his father's eyes, and if he did he might have shit himself in shock. But his back was turned. And he could see the King of Salt and Iron's knees shake, and bend to his queen's. He did not bow with his legs, but he bowed with his heart. Theon suddenly realized why he liked Cadenzsa so much, for with her sharp tongue and mighty gale of a voice, she must have reminded him of his mother quite a bit.

And then there was a moment between his mother and father, one of which he hadn't ever seen in memory. They exchanged a look, while Asha held tight to father's arm. Theon slowly came in a few steps when his mother noticed him, nodded with a tiny smile, and held out her hand to him. He hesitated for a moment, for he was afraid of what might come of him taking his mother's hand in that moment. But he came anyway, for in her eyes was the welcoming love and relief and comfort of knowing that her boy was back home. So he took her hand, and she patted the top of his as if it was to say 'it's alright, I'm here now.'

"Now, then," said Alannys. "I suggest you remake those plans. Never mind, you're shit at making plans, now. Theon, my child, you will sail to the Westerlands with thirty-two ships under your command."

"Thirty-two?" gasped Asha in shock. "I'm not sailing under him!" she cried. "I have commanded, killed-"

"_You_, my froward little girl, are no better than your father. Stupid. Proud. Stubborn. Too angry to realize when you're being stupid. But I'm not. My mind is clear. I see now. You both walk a path to your own destruction. And I will not have it. So if you want to stay behind, fine. Theon will be fine with thirty-one, and with the Leviathan under his command."

"The Leviathan? But mother-!"

"It is _my_ ship, Asha, that sails in the Iron Fleet thanks to the graciousness of my Father, Lord Seifrus Harlaw, as his tribute to the Iron Fleet for my wedding to your father. And if it wills me to bequeath it to my Theon, then it is within my rights. You take your Black Wind and sail wherever you damn well please, but do it alone." She then gave his father a long, leering look. "What are you still standing there for? Make the damn plans. Make it so, or else."

A beat. Balon Greyjoy swallowed and narrowed his gaze. "Do you threaten me, woman?" His voice was that of a man speaking to his wife, not a woman.

A grin. "I think that you and I both know that I don't make _threats_." Another beat. "I let you win that day, you know," she said softly. "I twisted my wrist up _just_ in time so you could think that you won. You never defeated me and you never could. That's what it means to be an Iron Lady. You wear soft gowns and bend a knee because you simply allow your men to fight your battles for you. Never forget that, Balon. Ever."

"Alannys," he said softly. "Do not do this." And then Theon saw his father's lip tremble.

"You will not take my last children from me, Balon. He may look like a Greyjoy, but Theon is, by virtue, a Harlaw. And Drowned God be praised, he comes with that wisdom. That is something you will never take away from him. He is a wiser man than you would ever be at his age, and you're too stupid to see it. So make those plans, and don't forget that I know where you sleep." She turned to Asha. "You. Go to your room," she said softly, but with enough impact to send Asha off to tears running out of the Keep. Theon didn't relish in her crying; it made _him_ want to, which he hadn't done since he was eight. "Theon, dear," she said softly to him, suddenly seeming a bit weakened and drained from such a speech, "why don't you take your poor mother to her room?"

"Yes, milady," he said quite softly, holding her paper-like hand and steadying her at her waist. She felt like a frail old woman; well, she had to have been, for being nearly sixty at this point and after seeing two of her sons die. Theon was a bit surprised in that moment of how little he remembered of his mother, even though she had been the one that had been with him for most of his young life. He always tried to follow along with his brothers, who would beat and jape and tease, and would end up holding Asha's hand. They would both go to their mother and sit with her while she read, or sewed, which Theon and Asha had both hated. They would complain of boredom until their mother would go with them to the seaside, where they could run about along Pyke's shores and hoot and scream as much as they liked.

"It's so good to have you home, my boy," she said softly to him with a loving smile. "You can't imagine how hard it's been on me. I suppose I can't imagine how hard it was on you."

Theon gulped. "It wasn't so bad. I was treated well."

She held tight onto his hand and squeezed it. "It wasn't your fault, you know."

"What do you mean?" asked Theon.

"I mean it wasn't your fault. None of this. It's that dumb cunt's fault."

"He fought for the freedom of the Iron Islands!" shouted Theon, pulling away from her. "He fought for the liberation of his people!"

Alannys gave a sad smile, and clasped her hands low at her hips. "Oh, my sweet boy," she said, "is that what you had to tell yourself to get through the nights?"

"It's true!" To Theon's horror, he felt his heart breaking, tears beginning to form. He felt small suddenly, like he had never done anything in his life but be a scared little boy, waiting for his mother to come and get him.

His mother pursed her lips and looked down. She sighed low through her nose. "That was half of why he did it, maybe. But I think he did it more to prove that he could. I know that you love your father, and it's alright to do that, but he can be wrong. And he was that time. Outnumbered ten-to-one? That's a simple game of numbers, dear heart, and anyone could see that it was a stupid rebellion. The Ironborn may be ferocious, but they aren't trained killers. They're brawlers of brute strength. They're hard men. That's all."

"What are you saying?" Theon asked, his voice cracking.

"I'm saying that you are much smarter than your father will ever be. And you know? I'm quite proud of you. Now come, dear, take me to my room and we'll talk more in the morning." Theon didn't know what to think, but ever the dutiful son he used to be, he came to his mother and circled his arm around hers. "By the way," said Alannys, "I rather like that Bravosi girl. She's sweet and comely and loyal to you. And from a good family. I've spent most of the afternoon with her and her mother. Know what? They haven't even heard of the Lannisters in Essos. Apparently, _they_ are the Lannisters of Essos. They even say "keeping up with the Forels" there. Did you know that?" Theon shook his head silently. "You know, not just any woman would turn down being the Sea Lord's wife. You should do something nice for her for putting up with everyone here." His mother laughed.

"What do you mean?" asked Theon with a frown, opening his mother's chamber door for her.

"Oh dear," she said. "Lady Forel was quite reluctant to talk about it. But Cadenzsa came clean about the whole thing. She said that her father was the First Sword of Braavos until the previous Sea Lord died." His mother went to her large leather chair and sat, motioning for Theon to come and sit with her. "Turns out that the day the new Sea Lord was proclaimed and whatnot, and her father was going to be offered First Sword again so long as Cadenzsa was given to him as his wife. Cadenzsa refused, of course, because she said she was disgusted by the new Sea Lord." Alannys hooted. "Well, it was his only daughter. So he refused, he was disowned by the family, and remade his fortune, and now Cadenzsa is here, ready to be a Princess."

Theon's stomach felt tight and sick with shock. "Why did she refuse the Sea Lord of Braavos?" asked Theon.

"She said that it was because he was twice her age, and he was a vile philandering man, regardless of the great things he has done there for the city." Then Alannys laughed. "When her grandmother, the one she was named for - pour me a glass of wine, will you, dear? - said that it was the greatest marriage they could hope for, absolutely securing the Forel's affluence in Essos. Well, that rebellious spirit of hers got her in a great deal of trouble."

"But Cadenzsa loves her family, and her home on the Isle of Flowers," said Theon. "She would do anything for her family." Was this the secret that she was keeping when they had first met? Was this the thing that she had done to hurt her family so?

Alannys shook her head. "Apparently, not anything. Turns out her father was a bit of a revolutionary, too. I suppose that it turned out for the better, hm? For you? A strong woman bears strong children. That hot blood in her will be beneficial to you in the long run. And should your plan work, she will be a fine queen with a fair mind, I think." There was a silence between them as she sipped her wine. Theon didn't know what to think about it all. This must have been why she came to Westeros, though; it must have been why she was seeking a husband there, where she was safe from the Sea Lord's wrath. The Iron Islands were clear across the world from Braavos; of course she would be safe there.

"What is it, my boy?" asked Alannys.

Theon shook his head. "She didn't tell me any of that."

"Perhaps it was because she was embarrassed?"

"So why did she tell you?"

His mother shrugged, sipping her wine again and dabbing her lips with a yellowed handkerchief. "I'm going to be her new mother soon. She _should_ tell me such things."

"But what about _her_ mother?" asked Theon, now a little confused. _  
_

"Oh, Gods, that woman..." hooted Alannys. "I can see why that girl is so itching to get away from her. I'm sure that Lady Forel is just fine for those Bravosi men but she is no better than a painted whore." Theon gasped. "What, you don't think so? That woman uses her beauty and her cunt as a weapon. The Iron Women know better. Beauty fades, Theon. I don't even think that the woman is capable of loving a daughter that isn't beautiful. In truth, I don't think that woman is capable of truly loving anything. No wonder the poor child is trying to get away from her. You could see it in her eyes at the gown fitting."

Oh, the gowns... Cadenzsa's wedding gown, no doubt ivory-colored since she was the bride. She was tearing her hair out planning their wedding. He knew that she hated fancy gowns and feasts and weddings; the problem was that she didn't know she hated them. Cadenzsa was a wild thing. She hated gowns, she hated pomp and circumstance, and she hated duty, even though she was far too polite and dutiful to ever admit that. If she had it her way, and if she knew herself, she would be living in a house by the sea where she could eat, sleep, swim, and dance all day long. Theon never truly knew or understood why she did such things as go along with feasting and courtesy and the boring life of Westeros, but in that moment with his mother, he began to understand that _her_ mother had such a hold on her that she was terrified to do anything other than what she was told to do. Nobody knew it, but Cadenzsa always did what she was told to do.

"By the way, I found a few things in the treasury of Harlaw that we saved from the rebellion." She stood and went to get a leather-bound jewelry box, which she set on the table between them. Opening it up, he saw jewels of the Iron Islands, strings of pearls and aquamarine, and pink salt crystals, and necklaces made of seashells and coral. "Pick something that you think she'll like."

The pink salt crystal brooch looked nice, but he didn't think that pink was a color that was good for her. Coral necklace? Too impractical. There was a ring of aquamarine and gold with a ring of diamonds around the main stone that he thought she might like, considering it was the colors of her House, but then he spotted a necklace of black pearls that were strung on black ribbon, and at the bottom was a Greyjoy pendant, gleaming gold krakken nestled in an egg. When he picked it up and felt how heavy it was, he realized that it was only dipped in gold and it was iron underneath.

Theon caught his mother's grin out of the corner of his eye. "I like that one, too. Gold on the outside, iron underneath. They really do underestimate the smiths of the Iron Islands...just look, all ten tentacles of the krakken on such a small scale."

Theon grinned and held it up to the candlelight. "This is perfect," he said.

Alannys patted his shoulder. "It will go well with her gown."

"How did the gown look on her?" Theon asked.

Alannys gave her son a knowing smile, and then gently flicked the end of his nose. "Don't worry, I won't let her look too stupid. Gods, that Bravosi fashion... She'll be an Iron Lady soon enough, that girl. I think it was the first time she's ever said the word 'no' to her mother when the dressmakers were to make the sleeves bigger." She laughed a thick cackle that echoed through the vaulted ceiling of her suite. "I'll see to it that she's dressed right. You just show up, my boy." With that his mother reached across and held his hand. "You know, you're the first of my children to ever wed? Even Asha! Gods, that poor girl, if she'd only put on a comely gown once in awhile... Well, it will be without question that you're the undisputed heir to Pyke once I'm done dealing with your father. And I'm giving you the Leviathan as my gift for your wedding, for you to command. I'll see to it that a proper crew is hired on as well. Mine is fine, I'm sure, but you'll need soldiers, won't you?" She sighed. "Well, I have a lot to do. Now go, I'm tired. Sweet dreams, my dear boy." Before Theon could really get up and leave, his mother pulled him to her breast and held him tighter than any had ever held him before. In that, he felt the ice that Winterfell had frozen around his heart shatter. Hot tears came down his eyes without him realizing it, and his mother ran her fingers through his thick hair. "I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you so much."

He didn't know exactly how long he stayed, but he stayed long enough to compose himself and walk out of her suite with a dry face and red eyes. He leaned for a moment against her door before beginning to walk very slowly down the corridor. It was almost comical that the only one that was happy, truly happy, to see him come home was his half-mad mother. She wasn't half-mad now, though, was she? It had to have been Cadenzsa who had put the light back in her eyes. She was the only one clever enough to do it, and she - by some miracle or act of one of the millions of Gods that people worshiped around the world - had somehow brought his mother back from the Madness caused by either her age or the life she had led. He had heard that all Gods are honored in Braavos. Which Gods did she keep? He had never thought to ask.

Aside from Dancing and those Black Mirrors, he didn't know who she was. Come to think of it, the list of things he actually knew about her was a a rather meager list, indeed. He knew she liked the color blue and she disliked jewelry. He knew that she liked clams and oysters and fish, and she was mad for cakes and sweets, especially with lemons and oranges and lots and lots of sugar. He knew that she liked to strip down to her smallclothes on warm days and dive into the water and swim for hours. He knew that she liked it when he bit her on her neck, and she liked it when he pulled her hair. He knew that she liked to fuck dirty, which shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did, but it still did - or perhaps he was just surprised that he was even able to fuck her like that because he thought he liked her too much to do it. You know, you can't fuck your wife dirty; you fuck a whore dirty, and you make love to your wife, and the two things shall never cross over. But she still liked it, which made him a little more than confused.

Some might think that to know all of those things about someone would be quite sufficient enough for any man to know of his betrothed. But as he began to wander aimlessly, surely looking properly mad, all around Pyke, he began to realize that she was a whole person with a whole life before even knowing him, and he knew nothing about that. He didn't know if she was bullied as a child or what kind of things she did living on the Isle of Flowers. He knew the curves of her face, and all the freckles on her cheeks, and every fleck of gold in her eyes. He would have been proud of that if she cared about a thing as fleeting as beauty, which he knew she didn't.

Come to think of it...maybe he did know a thing or two about her?

But that wasn't enough, of course. No, no, it certainly wasn't enough. He might have thought that it was good enough to wait, for they had their lives to get to know each other, but he had to ask her what he could do at that moment as a gesture of thanks for all the things she had done for him. At very least, it would have been appropriate to apologize for being a bit of a dumb cunt to her. She liked it when he called himself a dumb cunt; it made her laugh, which was good enough for Theon.

He came quietly into her room, calling softly for her. She was asleep on her bed, still in those black trousers and half-open blue linen shirt. Her shoes were kicked off the side of the bed, and there were books strewn half-open on the furs. A half-eaten plate of bread and cheese was on the nightstand. Her hair was long and down and soft, splayed out behind her. He came and sat next to her on her bed, brushing a few tendrils of her hair away from her sleeping face. She took in a slow breath through her nose. His fingers curled through her hair and he leaned down to kiss her.

The next thing he knew he was flipped violently onto his back with a dagger up against his throat, Cadenzsa straddled atop his hips with her hand firmly planted on his chest. "Don't..." she hissed "_ever_ sneak up on me like that again." He would have asked why she kept a dagger under her pillow, but when he swallowed he felt the thin flesh on the underside of his chin slit thinly open. "What do you want?"

Look at her eyes, so angry and full of hate, and hiding the same kind of pain he felt, too. He felt her thighs and hand shaking against his body. Theon knew her body better than she did, he guessed. In truth, it was probably the only thing he really ever truly knew about her. It was a lovely body, of course, and one that he loved. But now was not the time for that.

"I don't know how you put up with me," he softly whispered. Her breath faltered. "I'm so blind."

"What?" Her face was pained, like she didn't want to believe anything he said.

"And I'm stupid. Very, _very_ stupid," he said.

Cadenzsa gulped. "And cruel," she growled through her clenched teeth.

"That's right."

"And selfish," she spat.

"Yes."

"And I hate your stupid face." Tears brimmed in her eyes along her lashes.

"I know."

It was a gamble, but it worked, for she threw the dagger behind her and stuck it straight deep into the wooden bedpost behind them. She hopped off of his lap and stormed towards her mirrors. She didn't really do anything but just stand there, arms crossed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. He reached into his pocket as he slowly rose, making sure not to make any sudden moves.

"I'm sorry for earlier," he said. "I have something for you."

She shook her head with a laugh. "You've already spent Gods know how much on me since I've been here. Gowns and jewelry and sheet music..."

"Indulge me for one more gift."

"You can't _buy_ me like I'm one of your whores." That hurt like a knife. Theon was suddenly more aware of the tiny trickle of blood that was running down the length of his pale throat.

He approached her from behind, holding the necklace in his fingers and stretching the length out. "Well," he said softly, lifting it over her head from behind and placing it over her throat, "you're not a whore. You are Lady Greyjoy, and this proves it."

Cadenzsa's fingers came up to the gold pendant and then traced up along the smooth pearls. "This is too heavy to be gold..." she said.

"It's iron," he whispered in her ear. "Just like you. Beautiful on the outside, mighty on the inside."

"Pearls?" she asked in confusion, thinking that they were probably just black glass beads.

"_Black_pearls," said Theon, who wrapped his arms around her from behind and leaned his chin on her shoulder. "Not everybody appreciates their beauty, but they're very rare and very precious. You wear this, moon of my life, and _nobody_ will ever contest that you are Lady Greyjoy." He snatched up a gold hand mirror that was on her table and held it up to her. To his delight, she actually gasped.

"How beautiful," she whispered, taking the mirror into her hands. But she still looked sad.

"You're not really _that_ upset at me still, are you?" asked Theon.

Cadenzsa then busted out with a laugh. "No-well, yes-but, no. It's not that."

"What is it, then?"

"It's just... My father."

"You wanted him here."

"What daughter doesn't wish that her father will be there on her wedding day to give her away?" She sighed. "Your mother offered your father walking me down and giving me away, and then _my_ mother said she would give me away, but..."

"...You don't actually _like_ your mother, do you?" Cadenzsa busted out laughing again.

"Is it that obvious?" She sat on her bed. Theon knelt in front of her and twined his fingers with hers. She sighed. "Did I ever tell you about the day my father told me I was going to be a Dancing Master?"

Theon's heart skipped a beat. "You've never told me a thing about your childhood."

"I was seven," she said. "I was there at the Ragman's Harbor, sitting on the docks. I don't remember why we were there, but my mother had told me that morning that..." She trailed off, then gave a tiny laugh of nostalgia. "My mother had put me in front of the Black Mirrors for the first time, and told me that she had a vision that I would grow up and marry a handsome Prince, that would rescue me and keep me safe forever." She was laughing softly through the whole thing, and Theon realized that her prophecy had come true in him the form of that flying arrow which sealed their fate on the day in the Wolfswood where their love had first blossomed. "I remember that day so vividly. A Pirate came up to me and gave me a flower. He told me how pretty I was and asked me if I wanted a sweet. My father came up and swept me into his arms and whisked me away. He was furious, but I didn't know why at the time." A beat. "He told me to never talk to strangers ever again, especially men. I told him that I wouldn't need to worry ever because of my Handsome Prince... He gave me a very, very serious look and told me that from now on, I was my own Handsome Prince, and that I would never go another day without a Dancing Sword in my hand." A silent tear rolled down her face. "I miss him so much. He saw the world in me and I left him in King's Landing. If he were dead, I know I could eventually accept that, but it's the not knowing that's killing me." Theon's hand came up and wiped her eyes when she let out a sob. "All I've heard you talk about is how you'll be King when your father dies. I would give a thousand crowns for a thousand Kingdoms in a heartbeat if I could just spend just one more day with my father. One day more isn't that much to ask, is it?" She bent into him and cried in the crook of his neck. He pushed her back up and wiped her tears away with his thumb.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "I'll bring your father back when I take King's Landing, even if it's just his bones. If he lives, he'll live forever with us on the Iron Islands being the First Sword of Pyke, or something. If he's dead, we'll bury him as a hero, and I'll put him in bronze on Pyke's shore."

He saw that she wanted to be comforted by the thought of that, but she couldn't be. She wanted to go to King's Landing and see for herself if her father lived or died. Theon couldn't blame her for it, he supposed, even if he couldn't understand. In a way, Theon was jealous of Cadenzsa's love for her father, and how much she truly loved him.

"I know that we'll already be married by the time you see him next, so he won't be able to give you away like you wanted, and I'm sorry that you've given me my family back and I can't return the favor to you. But there is one thing I can do: On the day of our wedding, you walk in with me, and you walk out with me. So you'll not have to choose between anyone's parents. How would you like that?"

A wide smile of pearly white teeth brightened the candlelit room, and she laughed and threw her arms around his neck, clinging onto him tight as if he were the only solid thing in her life anymore, as if he were the rock and she were the sea which flailed and crashed against it. Her fingers curled through his hair and she buried her face against his neck. "I love you, Theon."

He couldn't help but smile. "I love you, too," he said. And when he pulled away she pounced on him like a cat in heat and covered his mouth with hers in a deep and loving kiss.

* * *

Ahhhh, FEELINGS! And now we will have a royal wedding in the next chapter, and after that, Theon will sail off to Westeros with the ships under his command...so this is where it gets REALLY different. Robb will be appearing soon, and I wanted to take this opportunity to explain a few things in the previous chapter:

Asha is NOT married yet. I hadn't actually read the books in a LOOOONG time and I got the timeline screwed up and thought that she was married when Theon came to Pyke for the first time, and not after the Kingsmoot, which wasn't until much later in the books. So my apologies for the confusion. I just figured that Alannys could be confuzzled because she's all crazy and stuff and thinks "oh hey, of COURSE my daughter is married, look how old she is!"

Will I keep the Taking of Winterfell storyline? Yes and no. Will Theon take King's Landing? Yes and no. Will Robb DIE at the Red Wedding? Did I even have to bring UP the Red Wedding?

So many questions...stay tuned! R&R and thank you SO MUCH for your favorites, follows, comments and support on TSSoB and TGL! It really means the world to me!


	7. Chapter 7

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything.

**Summary:**

AU. Sequel to "Second Sword of Braavos." This has been edited slightly for the story to make sense as a trilogy. ((A/N: Don't worry, I'll publish each one chapter by chapter, so it'll be fun to read along with!))

Braavos is an ancient and beautiful city of ships, wealth, and purple hulls. The world-renowned Courtesans of Braavos have their own barges and servants to attend them. With The Veiled Lady, the most-mysterious of these Courtesans, Syrio Forel had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.

* * *

**Cadenzsa**

* * *

"_Small craft in a harbour, both still and serene, give no indication-_"

"Gods, Lamb, will you stop singing for a moment and hold still?"

"I can't hold still! If I stay still I think I might be sick-"

"At least sing something else, then. Will you come back here? I need to do something about that hair of yours!"

A beat. "_The Ash grove, how graceful, how plainly 'tis-_"

"No! I hate that song, anything but that song-and will you come here? You can't go to your wedding looking that way. How I ever let you convince me to let you wear this _ridiculous_ gown-"

"I _like_ this ridiculous gown!" she finally shouted, turning around and stomping her foot hard on the stone floor of her suite.

Her mother narrowed her eyes in annoyance, dressed to the nines in full Braavos fashion with bellowing sleeves and silk skirts that ruffle when you walk. She was absolutely livid about the gown that Cadenzsa had chosen and had not a qualm about saying it. She hated how slim it was around the waist and hips and how it flared out at the knees, and she hated the plain design of it. Well, her mother called it plain, Cadenzsa called it perfect. It was nothing like any Bravosi gown she'd ever worn, nor any Westerosi gowns. It was slender and slim and long and tall, and flared out only at her knees; she looked like a Mermaid, which - she heard - was one of the very first queens of the Iron Islands. The fabric was a beautiful silk that ruffled and shimmered when she walked, and over it was a very fine, very soft lace from Myr that was so intricate it looked like a giant spider had spun it for her. It laid over the sleeveless pattern of the gown, and extended over her strong arms to wrap them snugly. And the color, of course, was a soft and light ivory-gray that looked warm against her skin. The Greyjoy Krakken necklace hung proudly at her throat, and her hair was down in large, loose, soft curls all the way down to the tops of her firm thighs.

"And don't touch my hair," said Cadenzsa, crossing her arms. "I like it like this."

"Lamb," said Lady Forel, coming and putting her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "Today is the day you finally wed your Handsome Prince. This is the day you've waited for your whole life. The day I foretold when I put you in front of the Black Mirrors for the first time... Don't you think you should do something with your _Gods-be-damned_ hair other than just letting it hang like limp straw?"

Did her mother really not know her at all? Did she really think that she was so simple? Cadenzsa opened her mouth to say something when Lady Alannys Greyjoy came in, dressed all in fine black velvet and gold lace, silver hair pinned up with an elegant hairnet adorned with gold seashells. She walked in with her head held high, and Cadenzsa dipped low in a curtsy in greeting. Her mother turned around bowed her head, but did not dare dip.

"My, my," said Lady Greyjoy, "don't you look just lovely?" Cadenzsa looked up in question. "Come here, my dear, let's have a look."

Cadenzsa's joy was over-flowing when she heard her mother stifle a sigh of frustration. She came to Lady Greyjoy, unaware of how shy-looking she was. When she was told to stand up straight and hold her head high, she felt like some kind of prizede box mare being examined for breeding. She didn't know if she minded, though, in this particular instance.

"You look perfect, my girl. A real Iron Lady." Lady Alannys turned to Cadenzsa's mother. "What, you don't think so?"

Lady Forel - who, in truth, was no _Lady_ at all - shook her head with an exasperated sigh and said "She's pretty, but...the gown is so simple. And, if you'll forgive, a bride should not look simple, she should look _magnificent_. Don't you agree?" There was a long, tense pause between them.

"Shame on you," said Lady Greyjoy with a stern look. "She's quite magnificent just the way she is." Mother's eyes went wide in shock as Lady Greyjoy came to Cadenzsa with open arms. "Now, then, let's put a rope braid your hair before it's too late."

"I-I was wanting to wear it down," said Cadenzsa quietly.

There was a pause of consideration. "At least pin some of it away from your face. It's very windy by the sea, my dear. Here, surely you must have some kind of comb in those jewelry boxes. Where are your handmaidens? Ah, you there, girl, come here. Find a comb with pearls in it and pin her hair back. Simply, now, nothing fancy. Sit, my dear. That's right, girl. Just the top half. Here, twist it like this, then pin it with the comb like that. See? Half-up, like that. Simple and tasteful. Iron Ladies needn't show off and peacock beauty, you see. We're renowned for our strength, inward and outward. Now, look how beautiful you are."

Lady Greyjoy pinched Cadenzsa's cheeks a little to bring out the flushed blood and life in them, and then pinched her lips gently to make them a healthy dark pink. Cadenzsa went and looked at herself in the mirror; she really did look beautiful, didn't she? And she liked it this way, dressing simply like this. She could get used to wearing grey, and black, and she didn't mind the Ironborn way of wearing your hair. Just away from your face and out of the way; how nice was it to have a culture that wasn't obsessed with beauty the way the others were? Sure, beauty was all fine and dandy, but to have a culture that was built around strength and freedom versus vanity...well, Cadenzsa could get used to that.

"It's almost time," said Lady Greyjoy. "You'll be a Cadenzsa Greyjoy soon." Mother came with a long veil of Myrish lace that was so fine it looked like a cloud of white mist in her hands. She was about to lift it over her face when Lady Alannys put her hand up. "Pardon, dear, but the Ironborn brides do not wear veils on their wedding days."

A look of shock came on both Bravosi faces in the room - well, all three if you counted Qahari, who was on her knees, straightening Cadenzsa's hem. "No veil?" Mother almost fainted, and her mouth gaped open like a gasping fish. Darry's mouth wasn't open in shock, necessarily, but she was indeed quite surprised, and happy with her place behind Lady Forel, and away from her wrath.

Lady Greyjoy shook her head with a tight-lipped smile. "No veil," she answered. "She's the Rock Wife. And will soon be Lady Greyjoy, a ruler of Pyke, and then a Queen of the Iron Islands when that old salt-cod kicks the bucket. The Ironborn should want to see that pretty face." Cadenzsa would have jumped for joy if she wasn't so close to fainting in happy-shock. There wasn't a word in the Westerosi commontongue for "happy-shock," or "so-happy-I-could-die;" but that was how she was feeling.

A soft knock came at the door, and a herald came in to announce his grace, Balon Greyjoy, King of Salt and Rock. And then Theon came in, for they had left the door open a crack. The Ladies gave a bowed head when he entered, and Cadenzsa gave a low curtsy, like she should have done.

He was simply dressed in fetching, black sea-washed leathers, and the golden krakken was embroidered proudly on his breast. On his shoulders was the fine black leather cloak of the Greyjoys, which had a Krakken of gold embossed on the leather. It was very long and trailed behind him much like the train of her gown trailed her. She hadn't ever seen him clean-shaven before, or with his dark hair combed back, and thought that his face without the beard looked all oddly pink and smooth, like a baby's. She didn't know how much she liked it, but she had always thought that Theon was a little funny-looking. Oh, he was a gorgeous, exotic creature, of course, as the Westerosi went, but...so unlike the gold-skinned Bravos with thick black curls and swaggering fat hairy chests. He was this lean thing with a face that one _might_ call pale, but Cadenzsa tried to think of it being reminiscent of a freshly-peeled apple. It was fun to think about, because Theon probably thought that Cadenzsa was funny-looking. When he saw her, he stopped dead and slowly began to smile.

"Theon!" His mother yelped and quickly stood in front of Cadenzsa with her arms spread out to block her son's view. "What are you doing? You know you're not supposed to see her before the ceremony."

"We're walking out together, Mother," he said with a proud smile.

Cadenzsa's own mother lifted her black-blue veil to show her face as she gently said "My boy, this is highly irregular, don't you think? I'm her mother, and I should be the one to give her away."

But Theon didn't fall under her spell. He looked right at her enchanted face and said, quite plainly and simply, "A _person_ isn't to give away." And he brushed right passed her to bow to his soon-to-be wife. Cadenzsa felt shy for the first time she'd ever felt shy around him; she almost liked it.

"And you're fine with this?" Lady Greyjoy asked Balon.

"They're walking out together," he answered. "May as well walk in together." Cadenzsa was shocked at his even tone.

"Then what are you doing here if he's walking her out?"

There was a pregnant pause, and Balon Greyjoy stood up tall and held out his arm. "I was hoping to have the honor of escorting _you_, your Grace." Never before had Cadenzsa seen such a true gesture of love than when Lady Greyjoy gave a reserved smile and slowly placed her hand atop his, and they held their heads high and walked out together. Were she not Cadenzsa Forel the Dancing Master, she might have been inclined to shed a tear. Fortunately, she was, and it was even better proved when her mother caught eyes with her. She almost let her jaw drop in shock when she saw a tear in her mother's eye of hurt, and she saw - in that tiny moment - that her mother felt the first inkling of motherly love in her life, when her daughter had silently told her that she was too big and too old for her mother anymore. It was a gesture invisible to anyone but Cadenzsa, but the Veiled Lady threw that black-blue veil over her face and stormed out, that gown of her rustling like dried leaves on the ground.

"You did that," said Theon softly, taking her hand. "You brought them together."

Cadenzsa didn't know what to say, so she smiled. Really, what do you say to that? He was basically thanking her for reuniting them after two murdered sons and a war that ended Gods-only-knew how many lives, not to mention the shame of the Iron Islands and Theon's ten years of imprisonment in Winterfell.

"It was all you. I didn't know you could do something like that."

"You helped," she said.

"No," he said, smiling. "_You _helped."

She placed her hands on her hips with a playful, toothy smile. "Is this your way of saying 'thank you'?"

"You want me to thank you?"

"I think it would be appropriate to do so, yes."

Theon laughed. "Thank you." And he cupped her face and twined his fingers into her hair. Theon rather liked her hair, even though it was quite clear that he liked whorish red-heads if he had the choice. It was easy, of course, for Cadenzsa to tell herself that it didn't matter what he liked, that he was hers now. But it was also easy to tell herself that he wouldn't go whoring and raping and pillaging after the battle was won...not that it was easy to actually _convince_ herself.

She knew what men were like, all hard-up once a battle was done. His faithfulness to her would be easy to maintain if she were to go with him to the Greenlands, as her new people called them, since she knew he couldn't ever resist her were she close by. She could stay in his tent and fight by his side with her sword. She could make him beg for her body on those cold nights if she so desired, and she would know that she would bear him children first before any whores ever had the chance to give him any bastards which could jeopardize her place on the Iron Islands, and - more importantly - the place of her future children.

She had to have a girl first. She _had_ to have a girl first. Then she could have as many other boys as she wanted. The boy in the mirror looked alright, didn't he? He didn't look mad at all. She'd mixed herself a special brew to help her conceive a baby girl before any other children the night before, and it was sitting by her windowsill for potency. She told herself that as long as her first was a girl, and she could keep the line of magic going, she could perhaps...

The magic only ran through the Firstborns. Cadenzsa figured that it would all be alright, so long as she ensured that her Firstborn was a girl. Then, after that, she could probably have as many other children as she could have. Her mother was insane anyway, wasn't she? Probably only half as insane as her Grandmother...or maybe twice? She wasn't sure. Wel, who cares what she thought about other children? Cadenzsa herself had often wondered what it'd be like to have brothers or sisters to keep her company. But the Firstborns HAD to be girls, because girls never went wildly rebellious and had an urge to conquer lands and rape women, and girls daily deal with a mind-bending madness by just being themselves in a world which would tear their minds in several-hundred different directions at once. Being a woman was hard already...so a little magic wouldn't make them go mad by itself. Boys? Men? They couldn't be trusted. They were often all the same; emotional and stupid and driven by their cocks. No man could be trusted with the powerful magic she was trusted with. And that was why she had to be sure that she should conceive a girl tonight with that potion.

And in that moment of thinking of their wedding night, Cadenzsa realized that they had just been standing there, quiet, with Theon staring at her, holding her face. He was smiling, quite sincerely at her, which made her immediately feel rather itchy and self-conscious. Finally, she asked "What?"

"You're so beautiful," he said. She laughed, her cheeks going red. "Go ahead and laugh," he said, "but this is serious. I'm really telling you, from the bottom of my heart, that you're so beautiful. I will be the envy of every man on the Iron Islands. And probably the North, too, all things considered." He began to laugh.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Cadenzsa, taking his hands off her face and twining her fingers tentatively with his.

Theon shrugged. "Robb's been betrothed to some girl of House Frey." Theon shuddered. "Weasel-y-looking things, they are. Not a pretty one among them. Poor Robb. All of those children take after that ancient Walder Frey who looks like a damn shaved rodent."

"And...Robb's marrying one of his daughters? Why?"

"It was the only way to secure his lands and his armies. Seems rather stupid to me, only because when you swear and oath of fealty, you swear an oath of fealty, and that's that... Well, he'll have the pick of the lot," said Theon with a grin. "Old codger's had something like seven wives. They say he's had over a hundred children. Old thing's just celebrated his 95th name-day, I hear. And he took another wife, too. I hear she's a pretty thing, too, and only fifteen."

"Gods almighty!" gasped Cadenzsa. "That's foul! What father would ever agree to that?"

"It's not that uncommon amongst Nobility," said Theon, who placed his hands on her hips. " There are very few Lords and Ladies in the world, I imagine, that wed for love like we are. I'm just glad I get to wed and bed the most-beautiful girl in all of Braavos. Probably in Essos, too. And probably Westeros. And probably the Known World. Maybe even in the unknown parts of it, too? Where there are strange lands that none have yet been claimed, far across the sea, and men live in trees and burrow in the ground, and foxes and bears wear velvet coats with gold buttons, and squirrels write scrolls of history on paper of oak leaves?"

Cadenzsa smiled. "You truly find me more beautiful than any other woman in the world? Even the theoretical squirrel Ladies of the Unknown lands?"

"Without question, sweetling."

"And you'll love me until the day I die?"

"Oh, no," he said with a rather bemused laugh. "I will love you until the day _I_ die, and beyond. In truth, hundreds of thousands of years from now when the seas dry up and they find the salt-crusted bones of King Theon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands buried in the sand and rock on what was once the sea bed, they will see the name 'Cadenzsa' written on my heart, where nobody will ever wash it away."

She brought her hand up and tenderly cupped his cheek. "You're gushing..."

"I'm getting it out of my system now so I don't make a fool of myself out there saying my vows."

"Theon..."

"The name is _Tdhey-on_, if you don't mind."

Cadenzsa laughed heartily and leaned her forehead into his chest. He kissed the top of her head. When she lifted her head up, he was smiling, and he took her chin between his fingers and thumb and brought it to meet his with a kiss.

"Wait!" said Cadenzsa, putting her hand on his. It was the first time, she reckoned, that she'd ever stopped Theon from kissing her, which was why his eyebrows tilted so and his eyes questioned. "We should go do that in front of people."

"That's true. We have a Royal Wedding to attend." And he took her arm and circled it around his, cradling her hand between his and the crook of his elbow as they walked out together. They went out to the right and walked down the halls of Pyke. The ceremony was taking place on the shores, by the sea. From what she had learned of their culture, the sea itself was Freedom, Life and Death, their whole way of life. She had spent her nights - when Theon wasn't crawling around in her bed, at least - learning from their tomes and Maester Wendamyr of her new culture. They were a lot like the Bravosi people when it came to their love of the sea...but the Bravosi never raised their Gods from it. She just hoped she wouldn't have to take the Drowned God for herself. It was a harsh religion, and the world was harsh enough without a harsh God. "What song is that?"

"Song?"

"The one you're humming just now."

Cadenzsa looked down at her ruffling skirt as she walked. The stone floors turned to grass as they exited the castle and began to walk out towards the sea. "I didn't notice I was humming."

"Well, there's going to be music when we walk in. Hum along to that if you know it. And remember, don't let them see you're afraid," he then said, which caused her to smile. "Just keep your chin parallel to the ground. Pick a point ahead of you, and stick your eyes to it. Don't break contact with that point. Don't even think about it. And smile. You have such a pretty smile."

"Is that what you do when you're afraid?" she asked, looking to her side. He smiled and nodded. "I'll try it."

"Are you ready?" he whispered. She had no choice but to break her point and look up at him, who was smiling nervously. It hadn't occurred to her that he might be scared too. He'd never show it, though; Theon had been hiding his fears and hurts for over ten years, wearing that handsome smile of his instead of a tear-soaked face. Cadenzsa's mastery of swords was nothing to his mastery of masking what was really behind those blue-green eyes.

"You learned your vows, didn't you?"

"I'll get it right," he said.

And they walked together to the sea shore, and when Cadenzsa looked up she saw the banners of House Greyjoy flying high with guards standing vigil down the aisle, which was lined neatly with driftwood. Standing on the sand of the beach were the Lords and Ladies of the Iron Islands. She wondered how a shore of this size could hold so many people, but then she saw that the aisle looked like a damn half-mile long. At the end of it stood an arch of driftwood that was bound with rope, and hanging high above was the Greyjoy's krakken. Theon's uncle, the priest Aeron Greyjoy, stood at the altar of sea stone.

Horns blew and drums beat rhythmically as Theon walked her down the aisle. With every step she felt stronger and weaker all at once, and with every breath she felt hot on the inside. She smiled and locked eyes with the Greyjoy Krakken above the altar so she wouldn't have to meet anyone's real gaze and risk losing herself. She felt the warmth of Theon next to her, and she heard his heart pounding and his blood rushing from vein to vein to vein as they grew closer. The music wasn't happy, but powerful, and Cadenzsa hummed along to the horns and lutes and drum's beat. And then they reached the altar. Cadenzsa broke the Krakken's gaze and met Theon's, who was smiling like a fool. She smiled, too.

"Ironmen," began Drowned Man Aeron Damphair, "we are gathered here today to witness the union between Houses Greyjoy and Forel, under the consecration of the Faith of the Drowned God. Do you come here of your own free will, to pledge your love to one another and bind yourselves together in the presence of the salt, sand, and sky?"

"I do," said Theon.

"I do," said Cadenzsa with a nod.

"Who gives this woman in marriage?"

Cadenzsa's mother came forward and said "Her father, Syrio Forel, and I, Vanessi Forel, do."

"Who accepts this woman into their House, to keep her and care for her while her husband is away?"

"I, Balon of the House Greyjoy, do," said Theon's father, who came forward. And then his mother came forward and said "And I, Alannys of House Harlaw, do."

The Drowned Man reached for a sword of iron and presented it to the two of them. "Kneel," he said. On the sword he piled a tiny mountain of sand and one of salt. "And now, you both shall kiss the sword of Iron, with salt and sand, and pledge yourselves to the Iron Islands as your one true home, that no matter the distance you sail on the sea, and no matter the lands you conquer and claim, you will return here." And both of them knelt and kissed the sword, which felt cold on Cadenzsa's lips. The sand and salt blew gently away from the breeze that came in from the sea, and into her black hair.

"As the Drowned God as your witness, are you prepared to take your vows?"

"I am," said Theon.

"I am," said Cadenzsa.

"Rise," said Aeron, taking a bowl of rock filled with sea water. "And take this bowl in both of your hands, turn and face each other, and recite your vows to one another." Theon took the bowl from the sides and Cadenzsa held it from the bottom. Theon took his fingers and dipped it into the water and drew the water from Cadenzsa's forehead down to the bridge of her nose, which ran down her face and dripped onto her breast.

"With the Drowned God as my witness, I, Theon, first of my name, of the House Greyjoy, do take you, Cadenzsa, second of your name, of the House Forel, as my wife, my rock, my one true love. You shall be the Rock, the hard place, the home I come home to when I sail on the sea. You will be a beacon in the night, with your eyes my star to navigate the storms that the Angry God of Storms might blow me away from you. I will hold fast to you in the storm, and you will be steadfast and strong. I will be the sea to carry and deliver you to wherever you desire. I will be your sword to protect you. I will be your strength when you are weak. Your people will be my people, and your House will be my House. You will want for nothing as long as you are mine. For you are the Hearth, the Harbor, and the Rock, and I pledge myself to you from this day until my last day."

_Gods I hope I don't fuck this up..._ thought Cadenzsa as she dipped her fingers into the bowl and brushed the sea water down the bridge of Theon's nose, which just happened to be her favorite part of his face. She took a deep breath and recited her vows.

"With the Drowned God as my witness, I, Cadenzsa, second of my name of the House Forel, do take you, Theon, first of your name, of the House Greyjoy, as my husband, shield, and one true love. You shall be the salt, the Sea, and sand, the provider and protector that comes home to me when you sail on the sea. You will be the shield at my side, the axe in my hand, and the fire to keep me warm at night. I will be the Rock for you to hold to in sunshine and in storms, in prosperity in poverty, in joy and in hardship. I will be the Harbor which anchors you, the home you come back to. I will be your shield at your side. I will be you strength when you are weak. Your people will be my people, and your House will be my House. You will want for nothing as long as you are mine. For you are the Ship, the Sword, and the Sea, and I pledge myself to you from this day until my last day."

And they put the stone bowl back on the altar, and Balon Greyjoy and his wife presented the black and gold Greyjoy cloak in leather, lined with silk, and Theon came and clipped it around her shoulders with a thick gold chain that ran across her throat.

"With this Cloak, I thee wed," said Theon.

"With this Kiss, I thee wed," said Cadenzsa, and they deeply kissed. And the Ironmen shouted and whooped, for they knew of the War that would happen the next morning as they went and sailed for the Greenlands. When they parted, she saw all of the Iron Islands cheering. The Drowned Man, Aeron Greyjoy, Theon's - and Cadenzsa's - uncle, raised his arms and said "I now proudly present Lord Theon Grejoy and Lady Cadenzsa Greyjoy to the Salt, Steel, and Sea of the Iron Islands."

The Tourney celebrating the wedding lasted until dusk, and then all of the Iron Islands came inside for the feast. The feast was loud and joyous and everything she hoped that it would be. Theon took her in his arms from behind and swung her around so her feet flew off the floor. There was screaming and shouting and singing, and drink so strong Cadenzsa almost passed out halfway through. Theon carried her on his back with her legs on either side of his hips to the Bridal Suite, which was the second-largest suite in the Bloody Keep, made up with fine furs and silks and burning incense. Theon was about to set her down on the bed when she told him to wait.

She bid him sit on the bed while she slowly undressed before him. She took the rings off her fingers and the cloak off her shoulders. Each article of clothing was gracefully draped over the chairs and tables as she peeled away the layers. And she slowly took her gloves off, which were made of a very soft sueded leather, an was punched and cut out in such a way that it looked like it was lace. Theon was undressing himself, but stopped when she let her gown slide off her curved body and down to the floor. She picked it up and paraded in front of him as she crossed the room and laid it lovingly into the white-leather trunk at the end of the bed. His eyes were wide and she could see his throbbing cock through his trousers when she came fully into view, wearing smallclothes of supple grey silk and lace, which hung gently off her shoulders; her rosy-dark nipples poked shyly through. Theon swallowed hard. This was the first time, she mused, she had stunned him with her beauty to the point where he was paralyzed. He stared at her for a long time, and she stood there, watching his face grow hungry with desire. And when she realized he was too stunned to do anything, she slowly began to undress herself, by unbuttoning buttons and untying ties, and letting it all slip down over her thighs, until the only thing that was left on her body was her Greyjoy Krakken necklace.

"My sun-and-stars," she mused with a smile. "Did I kill you with my looks? Are you stunned dead?"

Theon gulped in response. Cadenzsa then shrugged her shoulders, smiled, and padded over to the other side of the bed. Theon quickly stood up to watch her, and he began to frantically tear off his own clothes as she crawled across the bed on her hands and knees. Her hair fell over her in a curtain as she arched up and stretched across on her side, waiting. He threw off his clothes with such ferocity that he fell over on the stone floor. He quickly stood up and jumped onto the bed with her. They were both drunk with laughing and love, and Cadenzsa wasn't surprised when he threw her onto her back, just like it didn't look like Theon was surprised when she wrapped her arm around his waist and threw him onto his back. But he jumped up and threw her onto her back again and held her there, and bid her wait.

What happened next was the most tender he had ever been with her, the most gentle, slow, and loving. With each caress he was sweet, and with each kiss on her breast, hip, and thigh, she felt his love for her. She felt the lifeforce of his love glowing beneath his skin, and she came harder than she'd ever come before, and her screams - she was certain - could be heard all over Pyke. The next morning, she found herself wrapped in his arms, and he had buried his face into the nest of her long black hair through the night. She was going to, as per her custom, sneak out of bed and bring him breakfast for them to eat together, but he stirred when she did and he wrapped his arms tighter around her. And he whispered into her ear "Do you know what's romantic about wedding a Krakken?"

She shook her head.

"When he wraps his arms around something, he never lets it go." And he kissed her deeply. And he made love to her again before they dressed. Theon helped her into her black gown and leather long-coat and black gloves. She wrapped him up in his clothes and walked with him to the armory, where he was outfitted with steel. They feasted together as a family, and Cadenzsa saw that both Asha and her mother was gone. When she asked, Alannys had said that Lady Forel had left early that morning, and nobody had seen Asha since last night. And then Theon was made Captain of the Leviathan, with Cadenzsa's swords on board from her Dowry, and the gold she had brought with her in the Royal Treasury. They rode together to Lordsport and waited at the docks, and Cadenzsa stood with her husband, Lord Greyjoy, and looked on at the Leviathan, which was said to be one of the fastest ships in the Iron Fleet.

Theon held his head high with a smile. "Off I go," he said, "to win a War."

Cadenzsa gulped. "I have something for your journey," she said, motioning to her handmaidens, who carried parcels. She opened a box that carried her crown, and handed it to Theon, who had his things in his sea-washed sailor's bag slung casually over his shoulder.

"What's that?"

"My crown," she said, "for when I am Queen. The gold was melted down from my _Maegi_ grandmother's enchanted golden belt. I know it's silly, but spill blood onto this should you ever need aid that you think you might not ever get out of alive otherwise." He frowned, but took the crown and stuffed it into his bag with a shrug. "And this," she said, holding up a tiny phial of gold and rough-cut diamonds. "This is the Philter of Golden Tongue. It is very, very, _very_ precious stuff that takes a month to make. Each phial has seven drops. Put each drop in a goblet of wine or water, and for as long as the taste remains on your tongue, all who hear your voice must do what ever you say. And I swear, Theon, to the Drowned God, Storm God, Old Gods, New Gods, and any other Gods that I haven't heard of yet - if you ever, ever, ever _dare_ to waste this precious magic on anything other than something of the _utmost importance to your victory of the War of Five Kings_, I will hunt you down and gut you like a damn fish. Do you understand me?" Theon's eyebrows quirked in question. She grabbed him roughly by his chestplate. "I said _DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME_?!"

"I understand!" he cried. Cadenzsa sighed in relief. There was a pause. "_Anything_ I say?" he asked. Cadenzsa, who huffed a little in annoyance, took the phial in her hand and pointed out the tiny inscription around the phial's belly. He narrowed his eyes and read aloud: "'_All things of Nature are within your sway; the power is in the Word, be careful what you say_.'"

"Don't waste it," insisted Cadenzsa with an extremely stern look. "Don't even waste it to _test_ it. You will need this. Do. Not. Waste. It."

"Moon of my life, I swear on the Drowned God, I will not waste this." And he took the gold phial and stuffed it into his breastplate where he could keep it safe. And he caressed her face gently and kissed her on the forehead. "I love you," he said. "I will write to you when I can."

"I'll keep up with you using the Mirrors, and watch you."

Theon smiled gently at her. "I love you so much," he whispered. "You'll be safe here."

"I know. But I still wish I were going to be there, fighting alongside you."

"But I want you safe. Here. Where I know you'll be away from any danger." Cadenzsa nodded, looking down at her feet. He lifted her chin to his and kissed her. "I'll see you soon, alright?"

She nodded. "I'll see you soon." And then the crew of the Leviathan came, and Theon gave them a speech to rouse their spirits, and then he was off on his smallship towards the Leviathan, which hoisted its black sails, and sailed away with the rest of the thirty-something ships off to the East, where the Greenlands were.


	8. Chapter 8

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything.

**Summary:**

AU. Sequel to "Second Sword of Braavos." This has been edited slightly for the story to make sense as a trilogy. ((A/N: Don't worry, I'll publish each one chapter by chapter, so it'll be fun to read along with!))

Braavos is an ancient and beautiful city of ships, wealth, and purple hulls. The world-renowned Courtesans of Braavos have their own barges and servants to attend them. With The Veiled Lady, the most-mysterious of these Courtesans, Syrio Forel had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.

* * *

**Robb**

* * *

Robb's forces were camped near The Crag, and as he walked with and amongst his men, he was greeted as 'Your Grace.' He was starting to get used to it. He's come into his own as King in the North, and the Starks' banners held high over the heads of his men for all to see. He was feeling quite good about his War, and how his armies were marching. He hadn't been yet defeated, and the morale of his men grew and grew. The Gods, it seemed, were on their side.

And as he came down, he saw Lady Talisa sitting on a bench across from some of his soldiers. She was writing a letter, and her long black hair flowed down over her slender back. Gods, she was pretty. And from Volantis? Were all women of Essos blindingly beautiful with long black hair? No wonder Theon fell so hard over Cadenzsa, with her beautiful hair and her sharp tongue. It turns out that the women of the Great Nine Cities were all willful and intelligent. Robb wondered how or why they would ever leave Essos, for life for them must be good. There must have been something in the water to create such otherworldly beauties like them.

Even Lady Forel's handmaidens were beautiful, thought Robb, and it seemed that it wasn't uncommon. Perhaps the Essosi men got bored of so much beauty, thought Robb. Perhaps the women came to Westeros to get away from them, and see a world where they were different. Dark hair, dark skin, skin all clear and bodies that were tall and slender like willow trees. Every move Talisa made was graceful, even when she sawed off men's feet. Robb swallowed the knob in his throat, and approached her; Theon wasn't here to steal her affections, and Robb had a fighting chance.

"Lady Talisa," greeted Robb. She looked up, her cheek a bit smudged with dirt or Gods-know-what else. She quickly put her quill back into the ink pot.

"Your Grace," she said. "I'm...not sure I'm a Lady. Westerosi customs are still a bit foreign to me."

Robb smiled. "It's hard to keep all the rules straight..." _If I ever win this war, I might have to cross the Narrow Sea to really look and see if everyone from Essos was gorgeous_. "But if I remember my lessons, a woman of noble birth is always called 'Milady.' Unless she's a queen, or a princess... I could find someone who knows-"

"Why are you so certain I'm of Noble birth?" She seemed offended by the thought, somehow. But her head was held too high, and her back was sat too straight, and her hands were folded too gracefully. Even in rags, you could always tell a Noblewoman.

"Because it's obvious," said Robb.

He thought he heard a snort when she stood, and when she picked up her letter she tossed her hair a bit. "What if I told you that my father sold lace on a longbridge? And my mother and brother and I lived in his shop?"

Robb matched her posture and took a step towards her. A breeze came; she smelled good. "I'd call you a liar," he said.

That quirk of her sculpted eyebrow and slight shake of her head... "Not very noble to accuse a Lady of dishonesty." Robb waited; her face broke into a smile. "I always thought I was a brilliant liar."

Robb smiled, too. _Quick. Give her a compliment,_ thought the young wolf to himself. "Better at amputations, I'm afraid." Her face fell the tiniest bit, and Robb realized that - as well-intended as it should have been - it might not be the best thing to compliment a Lady on. Their gazes broke away from one another; Robb felt a little afraid for a moment, but then the cloud that had been hiding the sun parted away and the light came shining over the treetops and grass. "Quite a pretty spot," said Robb.

"Will we be here long?" Talisa asked.

A beat. "I couldn't really discuss such things with you." Her full lips fought a smile.

"I'm not a spy," she said sweetly.

_Say something clever, _thought Robb to himself. "Of course, a spy would deny being a spy."

Another beat. She smiled; Robb noticed how white and straight her teeth were. "You're right. You've found me out. I'm writing to the Lannisters: 'the Young Wolf is on the move!'" She then stopped and looked up with a frown. Robb looked behind him to see the golden krakken banners flying above the horizon, and an army of Ironmen marching into the camp, and Theon Greyjoy at the head of it. A smile grew on his face, for he almost didn't recognize him in the Greyjoy armor and clothes. Theon smiled and came with a laugh on his lips, like he always did. Robb laughed and threw his arms around his friend's iron-covered body; his hair smelled of salt and brine. The two of them shared a laugh.

"I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow!" said Robb with a grin.

"We raided Faircastle," said Theon, with a laugh on his lips. "It took far less time than expected. I've got half of the Iron Fleet waiting there, with my uncle holding it." Robb frowned in confusion.

"But that wasn't part of the plan," said Robb.

"I can't lead my men to sail off to war without them getting their axes wet with blood at the first chance."

"But I was planning on-"

"Their Lords pledged their fealty to the Lannisters. Be glad that the island belongs to the Ironmen now. We'll take Casterly Rock, too, if you like. And Lannisport. I might change the name to Greyport, though. It has a better ring to it, for a colony of the Iron Islands." Robb's heart was caught in his throat, and his brow furrowed with shock. He supposed that he understood the ways of War, but he never expected Theon to do anything without telling him first. He never expected Theon to go on ahead with a raid and...with all these Ironmen? These strange, brutish men with their strange and horrible Gods? Was Theon one of them now? "And who's this?"

Robb turned around to see the Volanteen still there, with her head slightly bowed. "Theon, this is Lady Talisa. Talisa, this is..." A beat. "Prince Theon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands."

"My Lord- Your Grace? I'm not sure...in Essos we sometimes address Princes and Princesses as Your Grace."

"Mi'Lord is fine, for now, it's my father that's 'Your Grace,'" said Theon with a grin. "And you are Lady Talisa...?"

"...Maegyr, mi'Lord," said Talisa.

"Talisa Maegyr of...Essos?"

"Lady Talisa is from Volantis," said Robb. "She's a healer, and she's helped us a great deal with our sick and injured. She has been very...helpful."

Theon shot Robb and Talisa a glance or two, before giving a very crooked smirk indeed, and patting Robb on his armored shoulder. "I'm sure she has."

"I must go. Excuse me, mi'Lord, your Grace?" With a curtsy the slender Volanteen was gone, her dirt-caked black hair stuck to the back of her neck as she walked. Robb watched her go, and only stopped when Theon gave him a jab on his chest with the side of his armored fist. Theon smiled.

"Much prettier than any Frey girl, that one, I reckon," he japed.

"Yes..."

There was a pause. "She touch your cock, yet?"

"Theon!"

The Ironmen laughed behind him in a roar. "Go on," said Theon to his men with a laugh. "Relax for awhile. Share the supplies with the Northmen. We'll be at war, soon. And send a Raven to Pyke letting them know of our raids." The Ironborn walked away, looking like giants, swaggering and drunken.

"I haven't, Theon," said Robb, quite sternly. "I'm...promised to the Frey girl. It wouldn't be right-"

"I know. You're too honor-bound to bed a girl without marrying her, and the Northmen will never accept a foreigner as their Queen. And it's a shame, too, that you're all so stuck in your ways like that, but it's a debt that must be paid, to that stupid House Frey, for the use of their banners and lands. It was a shit deal, if you ask me, and I truly think it's because your mother's shit at negotiations... But just pretend you're already married to her. That you have a wife at home. The temptation will be far less."

"How can I imagine my wife at home when I don't know what she looks like?" Robb frowned. "And what would you know of temptation? You've acted on every temptation you've ever had."

"Not _every_ temptation," said Theon. The turned and began to walk together.

"You look different," said Robb. Theon nodded. "The Iron Islands...were they the same as you remembered?"

Theon shook his head. "No," he said. "It was still dank and cold and miserably rainy, but everyone that knew me died. We had a new Maester, new Steward, new everything. Nobody recognized me."

Robb stopped. "Your father did, didn't he?"

Theon shrugged. "I don't reckon he might've had he not known I was coming. But my mother did, so that was good. And my uncles recognized me, too. And my sister." He said the word sister with the slightest bit of disdain, but Robb was either too shy or too polite to ask. "They weren't as happy to see me as I thought they would be. But it doesn't matter."

"Well, your father listened to you, and that's the important thing." Theon paused, but the nodded.

"Yes, he did. And my mother. She gave me her longship, the Leviathan. It's one of the fastest ships ever built.

"Theon...about you and the Iron Fleet taking the Fair Isles, and Lannisport..."

Theon looked Robb square in the eye. "Robb, I pledged you _my_ sword. _Mine__. _I cannot pledge you fealty on behalf of the Iron Islands for I am not the Head of House. My father is. We're fighting a war for our independence now, too, and we're your allies, not your bannermen. I meant everything that I said when I pledged myself to you, but I meant everything else in those letters and terms just as much."

Robb suddenly felt a flare of anger. "You know, I thought you were my brother. I thought you were my friend. Now you-? You owe us! You owe the Starks everything! We raised you like our own-! You owe us your loyalty."

"You mean how Sansa must owe the Lannisters _her_ loyalty?" Robb's eyes went wide. "A prisoner doesn't owe their captors anything. I was treated well, and for that I am grateful, but I was fostered _among_ your own, not one of your own. And it wasn't you, it was your father. And he's dead." Robb felt his heart pound. He felt betrayed, but he knew in his heart of hearts that Theon was right. If the shoe were on the other foot...

"I'm sorry, Theon."

"S'alright, Robb." And Theon put his arm around Robb's shoulders and gave him a shake. "Who'd have thought it, hm? You and I, royalty together?"

Robb cracked a smile. "Feels strange. But good. Maybe when we have children, we can join our Houses? Stark and Greyjoy? Greyjoy and Stark? Even if it might be a ways away..."

Theon looked far away for a moment. "Well, considering you'll wed the Frey girl soon, it might not be long til we join our Houses..."

It was something about the way Theon smiled that made Robb pause. Something about the way he looked away; he hadn't seen that look for narry a year, but he still recognized it. It was a look of hope, of hidden love. But it couldn't be, could it? He must have found someone on the Iron Islands to wed...a quick, political marriage to strengthen the Greyjoy's fleet? She must have been beautiful to have rid Theon's mind of the Braavosi...

"What do you mean?" asked the Young Wolf.

They reached the inside of Robb's tent, where Theon poured two horns of wine. Robb sat. "I mean, drink to me, Stark! Drink to me now, for you could not be there to drink to me on my wedding day." Robb's eyes went so wide they might have fallen out of his head. Theon put the horn in Robb's gloved hand and clanked them together. "Drink, Stark! Drink to my wife!" Theon downed the wine and poured himself another. Robb was lucky he was sitting, for he might have lost his legs at the news. Theon? Married? And happy about it?

"Who is she? An Iron Islander on Pyke?" Theon's smile was withholding, waiting, like he was about to tell a joke but the punchline was too funny to keep from laughing to himself. "Theon, who is she?" Robb stood.

"Better sit down for this one," laughed Theon, who was now pouring himself his third horn of wine. Robb came and covered the horn's mouth and set it down on the wooden table.

"Who is she?"

Theon took in a breath through his nose and raised the whole wine bottle in his left hand. "She is my wife, my rock, my home and harbor and hearth, Cadenzsa, second of her name, of the House Forel of Braavos." And he swung back another swig of wine. "And now, she is Lady Greyjoy, mistress of the Iron Islands, Tamer of the Waves, Sister to the Sirens, Lady of Pyke, sitting pretty in the keep of my family, right where she belongs, with my parents at her side, teaching her everything she needs to know about ruling. And she is going to give me dozens of babies, I'm sure, once I get back. Hells, she might be pregnant with a Prince now, for all I know..." Everything he said was with a happy smile or laugh at the end of it. Theon seemed positively giddy about the whole thing, but all Robb could do was shake.

"B-But Theon...how? I thought that she was-!"

"I know. I did, too. But it turns out that she got word of everything that was happening in King's Landing, and she came up to find her Father, who was still there. I don't know how long she was looking, but I do know that when I got to Pyke, she was there waiting for me, with a massive dowry and a letter from her father saying that we had his permission to marry. And if you think Cadenzsa's beautiful, you should see her mother! Gods be good, she's got a face that looks like it was sculpted by Mermaids."

"A dowry? Of what?"

Theon gulped down some more wine and then went and sat at one of his council chairs, putting his boots up on the table. "Money, and lots of it. And Valyrian swords for my army. Servants from Braavos came with her, including cooks and stewards and scribes and more. There were some silks and spices, and othersuch luxuries one might find in the Free Cities, but the most-important thing is that Cadenzsa's family owns forty-two percent of the Iron Bank of Braavos, which will be an excellent thing for us, your Grace. Not only do I get her _and_ her father's share of the family estate in Braavos, but I get partnership of all of her shares in the Bank. Pull a few strings, and all of Westeros could be bankrupt if we needed it to be. We could cut them off at the coin, those Lannisters. They have a saying in Braavos, 'The Iron Bank will get its due.'"

Robb sat slowly, next to Theon, his hands shaking a little. "How did she find you?"

There was a pause. "She went to the Iron Islands and waited. Old Wyk, I reckon, was where she was staying. And she heard I was heading back home, so she met me at Pyke." Robb opened his mouth to object, since Theon spoke just a little too quickly for it to be real, but Theon said: "Anyway, does it matter? That girl is clever, and she's got her ways of finding things out. That's what's so wonderful about the Free City women: they know what they want."

Free City women...know what they want. But Volantis wasn't a Free City, was it?

"Volantis is in the Slaver's bay, Robb. I don't know how Slaver Nobility thinks, if that's what your next question was."

"How did you-?"

"I know how a man thinks when he wants a pretty girl." Theon took his horn back and drank more. Theon sure could hold his wine...

"Well..." Robb didn't quite know what to say. Theon never did anything without telling Robb, not because he was asking permission, but because he was his friend. Robb and Theon did not have a secret they did not share, and this was possibly the first of them. "Theon, let me congratulate you, I suppose." Robb raised his horn. "To your Lady." They drank. "She's well, I take it?"

"Aye, she's well. And beautiful as ever. And she lost her accent!"

"She did?"

"Yes! Not a hint of the Free Cities on that pretty pink tongue at all. Speaks like a Westerosi, now. I think that makes it four languages she speaks fluently? Yes, she speaks Bravosi, Dothraki, High Valyrian, and the Commontongue."

Robb gulped. "Well, I'm sure you two will be very happy together." His palm was a little sweaty. "I'm sure she'll give you...many sons." The thought made Robb cringe, Cadenzsa fat with-child. She just didn't seem the type, if that made any sense, for a woman to not seem the type for breeding. He realized, of course, that it was ridiculous to think that she'd not ever wed and have children. That's just how it worked, wasn't it? Women of Nobility wed men of Nobility and they have children of Nobility. And it wasn't inconceivable that Cadenzsa could find Theon again, was it? She was a remarkable woman, and if she could wield a sword with the best of them, then why couldn't she become a Greyjoy if she wanted? The Iron Islands seemed fitting, didn't it, for the men raid and take slaves and the women wield axes and spears alongside their men. It was a hard place where hard men ruled, so why shouldn't their women be hard, too?

"She'll be a Queen when my father dies," said Theon with a grin. "Don't tell her, but I'm going to build her a throne right next to the Seastone Chair with the Sea Turtle of her House, right there next to the Krakken of the Greyjoys. It will be fitting, considering she'll be the first Queen of the Iron Islands since the old days. And it will be a proper wedding gift for her."

Robb frowned. "You think your father will be dead so soon?"

Theon shrugged. "It's not just that. I have to do something big for her considering I'm not there now to aid in her assimilation into the Ironborn culture. She crossed the Summer Sea and sailed around the entire continent just to be with me. I should do something nice for her. She said she did it because she 'owed me a kindness for saving her life.' 'Owing kindnesses,' she calls them, of all things."

Robb was about to object, but he had to remind himself that - in truth - it was Greyjoy's arrow that had made it into that Wildling's eye, and Lady Forel's heart. His arrows always found their target, for he was the greatest hunter Winterfell had seen in years. The Greyjoys were brilliant archers, as Theon had always boasted; turns out that archery was a skill that he should have practiced more.

"Will she come to King's Landing when we take it?" asked Robb then.

Theon nodded. "Naturally! I'll want my Princess by my side. By the by, I haven't heard, with whom are we siding? Whose claim are we supporting?"

The Young Wolf cringed inwardly. "My mother hasn't come back, yet. I'm beginning to be worried over her."

"When do you expect her back?" asked Theon.

A shrug came off of the young King's leathered shoulders. "Soon, I suppose. If she's not back within a week, I'm sending word for her."

"Your mother is a woman grown, your Grace, she can take care of herself." Theon sighed. "Gods, I wonder who it will be? Do you think you'd prefer Renly or Stannis? Stannis never smiles, I hear, but Renly...well, if the Iron Throne was made of cocks, I'm sure we'd never get him off it." Robb couldn't help but laugh, and with Theon next to him again, he felt happy and dizzy.

"Robb." He turned around and his mother was there, in the opening of the tent. He sprang up at once with a smile and wrapped his arms around her.

"We were just talking about you!" he said with a smile. And Lady Cat looked to her right and saw Theon there, looking quite at-home with his new title of royalty. He stood, nonetheless, and came to kiss Lady Stark's hand, which was a much more well-mannered response than Robb thought Theon would make. "Theon got married to Cadenzsa Forel while he was on the Iron Islands," Robb suddenly blurted out. His mother's shock was quite apparent, and Theon's look simply read: '_are you serious, you idiot?' _"She's rich, it turns out, and her family owns about half of the Iron Bank of Braavos," continued Robb in his inwardly-hysterical rant. "And if worse comes to worst, we can just put the whole Seven Kingdoms in a huge debt and the bank can support us and our cause! Not that it will come to that, of course."

Lady Stark held her head high, and her jaw tight. Robb saw the inward rage in her eyes, the hurt. He was confused, of course, for a moment, as to why that could be. His mother had never said anything ill, out loud, that is, of Lady Forel, but if she thought her unfit for Robb, did that mean she saw her unfit for Theon? She never really _liked_ Theon, in truth, but tolerated him for the sake of everyone else. E'er the Tully, she put her hands on Theon's shoulders and kissed him on the cheek.

"Congratulations, Theon. I'm sure she will give you many sons... A girl like that is...I'm sure, quite healthy and fertile." Theon's face changed, for it was a back-handed compliment, indeed, but he nodded graciously, said a quick 'thank you' and 'excuse me' and left Robb with a pat on his shoulder. It was strange to see him in a cloak of boiled salt-leathers and not of soft fur, as he walked away. "What, in Gods' name," Lady Stark began, "have you done?"

"If I'm King in the North, let him be King in the Iron Islands!" shot Robb suddenly. "Every king needs a queen! A queen that he loves! And I know that he loves her, and she loves him back. I know she does." His throat felt dry, and his tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth. "Love deserves no judgement."

She tossed her head rather indignantly. "First you send him off to the Iron Islands-"

"He came back with the Iron Fleet! You were wrong! His father is our ally, now-"

"-At what cost? He's not pledging fealty to us, and if he's not doing that-"

"-Because their family is just as great as ours! Their House just as strong! Why should the Iron Islands fight for their independence to only kneel to us in the North? If they want their independence, too, let them have it. If there is one thing I do not want, anymore, is my best friend kneeling to me and kissing my boot like he's...worse than me. He's not. And I don't care what you say. Theirs is a love that is true and deep and heart-felt. We should all be afforded the luxury of wedding them that we love!"

Cat wrung her hands. There was a tension between them. "I see. Kings are not supposed to have mothers, it seems..."

"Mother..."

"I think I see what this is about. I saw you talking to that girl earlier." Robb's heart stopped. "Were it up to me, I would let you follow your heart. All I want is your happiness. But you know the cost of all of this, and it is a debt you must pay." Robb rolled his eyes and turned away. "I know. You like her because she's beautiful and exotic. But the Frey girl will...it will be a love you build, year by year, brick by brick, and will be much stronger than any lust you may feel now."

"It's not lust!" insisted Robb.

"Robb, listen. I know it must be hard for you. But Walder Frey will not take lightly a betrayal of you wedding anyone other than his daughter. You are the first son of the North, and you know what that means to be a Stark of Winterfell. I know it, too, all too well." She came and put a hand on her son's shoulder. "I just don't want to see this turn into another Cadenzsa Forel. Remember? Despite my best efforts, you were heartbroken when she left."

Robb was aghast, this time with anger. "Cadenzsa Forel is Cadenzsa _Greyjoy_, now, and she never had a _chance_ to become Cadenzsa Stark because you saw her unfit for me to even be around. You didn't like her, and you were the reason that she and Theon fell in love. And you never even had the decency to tell me _what_ was so wrong with her?"

"Robb, she's a foreigner-a Braavosi, nonetheless. And you have plenty of beautiful Northern girls and Westerosi girls here to fawn over, not that any of that matters now. You are promised to Lady Frey, and that is that."

"If the only thing wrong with Cadenzsa was that she is a foreigner, I'm sure you'll feel quite foolish now, because she's a Westerosi, now, and an Iron Islander. She could have been a Northerner, if she wanted. What was so wrong with her? What was so indecent about her? Is it because she wore trousers? Because she fought with swords? Is it because she traveled alone and killed Wildlings? Tell me, Mother, what was so damn wrong with her?"

"Nothing was wrong with her-she's a very sweet girl, just not for you."

"And who is it, pray tell, that decides who _is_ for the King?"

"You weren't a King, then!" shouted his mother.

"I'm a King, _now_! And as the King, I declare I am too damn old to cling to my mother's skirt and ask per damn permission every time I want to do something!" Robb's face was red with fury. "And, now, I command that you tell me who it is that we're siding with on this War. Stannis or Renly?"

Cat sat, defeated. "Neither," she said softly. "Renly was killed. And Stannis is fighting alone in the name of a new God of Fire with some...terrible Red woman at his side. She's a Witch. A foul demon. She sent her dark minions to murder King Renly... And now we are without a supporter to our cause."

Robb shook his head in disbelief. "I don't believe it... Theon was right about you." Cat stood with rage. "You _are_ shit at negotiations!" He turned away from her and slumped over his battle plans. After a very long pause, Robb felt his mother's pleading hand on his back. "You are dismissed, Lady Stark," said Robb quietly. "And while you're on your way out, send Prince Theon back in. From now on, he handles all my negotiations."

* * *

WOW! Back in the Westerosi war for the FIRST TIME IN THIS STORY! YAY! Seems like Robb's growing a pair...and now, for some explanations!

For those of you who have read the books, you'll know that Talisa Maegyr doesn't exist. Instead, her position is filled with Jeyne Westerling, a daughter of Lord Westerling of a noble House in Westeros that is quite...well, that doesn't matter, really. The point is that Jeyne and Robb meet after a battle at The Crag, where Robb is injured at the battle. Jeyne tends his wounds and, while they're together, Robb gets the news of Theon raiding Winterfell and his brothers being 'killed.' Out of grief, he beds Jeyne Westerling and - being the honorbound Northerner Robb is - he weds her outright to preserve her honor.

I kept the show's storyline of having the Volanteen healer, Talisa Maegyr, as their Queen/Robb's love interest for several reasons:

One, Robb/Jeyne is a relationship based off of lust and grief. Talisa/Robb is a much more interesting, relatable relationship. Talisa is intelligent and has her own career, and she's the one that sort of asks these probing questions of Robb and the one that sort of really makes Robb look at himself and the choices he's making. Talisa is an awesome character, whereas Jeyne is(let's face it) SO not worth losing a War over. Talisa? Kinda awesome.

So, my dears, that - in a nutshell - is why I chose to keep Talisa versus Jeyne. Talisa is going to be fun to write, and she's going to be QUITE essential to the storyline I'm sculpting. We are getting close to some awesomeness happening, and it turns out that meeting one person can really change your whole fate. COOL, HUH?

Stay tuned for updates! I'll be making them to The Second Sword of Braavos, soon! PREPARE FOR HEART-WRENCHING FEELS AND AWFUL HORRIBLE TRAGEDIES! PREPARE TO CRY! PREPARE!


	9. Chapter 9

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything.

**Summary:**

AU. Sequel to "Second Sword of Braavos." This has been edited slightly for the story to make sense as a trilogy. ((A/N: Don't worry, I'll publish each one chapter by chapter, so it'll be fun to read along with!))

Braavos is an ancient and beautiful city of ships, wealth, and purple hulls. The world-renowned Courtesans of Braavos have their own barges and servants to attend them. With The Veiled Lady, the most-mysterious of these Courtesans, Syrio Forel had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.

* * *

**Cadenzsa**

* * *

_Get up. He's coming._

_"Where is he?" he asks pitifully to the two faceless women. _

_Stand. Hurry. Stand, hurry! _

_"Help me..." he whimpers._

_Where are you? Why can't I find you?_

_"Help me...if he comes back..."_

_Get up, Theon. Stop crying. Please just get up and run to where you can signal for me. _

_"No, please, mercy! Mercy! I beg of you-!"_

_Somebody stop it. Somebody help him. Why isn't anybody helping him? Please, he's got a hooked blade!_

_"Would you say your cock is your..._most important_ part?"_

_Run, Theon! Run!_

_"Please, no, please!"_

_Get away from him! Give me a sword! Somebody give me a sword!_

"My Lady?" _a voice carries_.

_Give me a sword! Give me a fucking sword!_

"My Lady, wake up!"

_Give me my sword! I'll cut you open, you little bastard! I'll gut you like a fucking pig!_

"My Lady!"

"GIVE ME A FUCKING SWORD!"

When she opened her eyes, she was sitting up, in her nightshift, drenched in sweat, and her Grace was at the foot of the bed - looking more than rather annoyed, I might add- along with Qahari sitting at her bedside. Her face felt hot and puffy. Her hands were shaking, and her palms were so covered in clammy sweat that she couldn't grip her dagger, which she was gripping quite tight. She was in her bed; well, not _her_ bed, but their bed. When she turned around, the Greyjoy Krakken banner was draped on the wall behind. She sighed a long breath and collapsed onto the flat of her back.

"My Lady, you were having a bad dream," soothed Qahari.

"Bad dream," japed the Iron Queen, "you were waking the whole castle. I hadn't heard screaming like that since Theon was cutting his baby teeth."

Cadenzsa's face flushed red from embarrassment. "I beg Your Grace's forgiveness," answered the Princess as she darted her eyes away. "I did not mean to wake you."

The Queen came to Cadenzsa's bedside. "You kept on screaming, 'give me a sword, give me a sword_.' Why_, may I ask, in your dreams, do you need a sword?"_  
_

She frowned and looked away. When she spoke, she kept her voice even. "I was dreaming of Theon," she said, "and how I wish I were at the battle beside him." It wasn't a lie, she told herself. Not really. Nobody needed to know of her visions. Nobody needed to know she was having them, especially when she was trying her damndest to learn a whole new culture and history and lifestyle to which she had not been bred to do. She was a sword, not a Lady, and certainly not a Princess. Swords fought. Ladies...well, she didn't quite know what Ladies _really_ did, now did she?

Her good-mother shook her head with a smirk. "I used to have the same kind of dreams. In truth, mine weren't ever that violent."

Cadenzsa gulped as she sat up to hear the Queen's words.

"Those are the kind of dreams that my brother used to have. He would have nightmares about past battles he fought. He would keep me up at night, sometimes, too, but I would eventually get used to it. Then I married Balon, thinking I'd have to get used to nightmares worse, for he had seen a thousand battles more than my brother ever did..." Her Grace sighed, her silver hair shining in the streak of morning light that was peeking through the gray clouds over Pyke. "But you know, he never had a nightmare. Not once. He slept soundly through the night, and he would never stir nor budge nor even mutter in his sleep. He never even snored, if you can believe it. Had he not been so damn bony in the arms he'd have been the perfect person to share a bed with. Not until we lost the boys. He would awaken from a sleepwalk with his axe in his hand, as if he was reliving his nightmare. I realized then that a warrior only nightmares when he is ashamed of what he has done, of what they had seen, of what they could have changed."

Cadenzsa didn't know what to say.

"Well," she quickly dismissed with a smile, Theon's smile, "when you feel like wiping that sweat off, you may join me in the Kitchen Keep for supping our breakfast."

She wanted to laugh at the frankness of it, but it wouldn't have been proper. Before she could even think to stand and greet the Queen properly, she had left. It had been nearly a month since their wedding, and sleeping without Theon proved to be far greater a challenge than she had thought it would be, especially with these newfound powers of hers and no _Maisi_ around to tell her what to do. For the first time in ages, she wanted her mother by her side.

Cadenzsa felt Qahari's hand on hers. "My Lady, it was only a dream. Nothing more. A dream cannot hurt you." Her smile was so sincere, and comforting, Cadenzsa wanted to believe that it was nothing more than a bad dream, and not a shadow of a vision. She would never forget the first time she'd had that same dream, the one where they peel Theon's flesh away from his withered and parched bones, and butcher and carve him up like a ham. She would never forget the Bastard's face that was doing it to him, smiling, blowing that stupid horn... She had been having the dream for so long now that she imagined that, even though she had fixed his future-supposedly-her heart had been stained too deep for too long with those kind of nightmares to ever get them away. She'd been screaming in her sleep since last year in Dorne.

Qahari had played more of an elder sister to Cadenzsa than anyone, and she had to come to accept that Qahari - although her servant - was the closest thing to having an elder sister that she'd ever have. Asha was still missing, and there was no word from her or her Black Wind. Qahari had come into the service of the Forels when Cadenzsa was thirteen and living in the Sealord's Palace. Qahari was sixteen, and beautiful, when Cadenzsa was all pudgy belly and face and a mop of black curls. It was Qahari that held Cadenzsa's hand and cared for her, and was the one that really had shown Darry how to be a real Handmaiden. With Qahari around, Cadenzsa was always taken care of well, and she was the only Bravos in the whole city, it seemed, that knew how to tame Cadenzsa's wild curls enough into a braid.

"With your permission," said Qahari, now a bonafide Commontongue-speaker, "we shall begin the day." She crossed over and opened all of Cadenzsa's curtains. Cadenzsa stretched. "Today, we have lessons with Her Grace until Mid-day, and then Maester Wendamyr has informed me that you are going to be escorted around Pyke by Lord Tristifer Botley."

"The island or the Castle?"

Qahari paused. "Er... Yes."

Cadenzsa stood up and bent low to touch her toes. "And who is Lord Tristifer Botley?"

Qahari went to Cadenzsa's wardrobe and thumbed through her gowns. "A member of House Botley, with Lordsport as their seat," she said. "Apparently, he was fostered here at Pyke after the rebellion, and has offered to be your escort today."

The Bravos stood up straight and did a morning cartwheel to get her back to pop out all the kinks, which worked, mostly. "I don't know how much longer I can take all of this," she said. "I'm not built to be royalty. I'm a Dancing Master, it was all I've ever wanted to be."

"You _are_ a Dancing Master, my Lady, and that was your dream. Now you have it, and you are living a new dream." Qahari smiled. "You have led an extraordinary life, and I have been lucky enough to be witness to it. I know that it was never my Lady's desire to hold power, but now you hold the power of a Kingdom in your hand, and you can do wonderful things for these people. Now, let's get dressed."

And so Cadenzsa dressed, in one of her new 'Ironlady' gowns that she'd received from the Queen Alannys. It suited her, that dark charcoal gray, and she liked the trim of suede and leather, all with lace underneath at the sleeves and neck. Cadenzsa was slowly getting into the swing of being a Princess and what that meant. She came to the Kitchen Keep in the mornings to sup with the Queen and King, and listen in on their conversations and be the only daughter. She walked with her good-mother all around Pyke, listening to lessons of history and trying to memorize whose House was where and what their words were. It was dull, and dreary, and Cadenzsa had no patience for memorization.

"Mother," she finally said, surrounded by history books and all beside herself with a pounding headache. "I mean, er, your Grace-"

"-I've never liked the term 'your Grace,'" then mused the Queen. "Maester Wendamyr," she said. "from this day forward, seeing as we are now an independent Kingdom and no longer a part of the Westerosi realm, so instead let us have the royalty of the Iron Islands be addressed as...'Your _Majesty_.'" Cadenzsa's eyebrows went up. "No, no, wait...only Kings and Queens shall be 'your Majesty. A Prince or - " she looked at Cadenzsa with a smile "- a Prin_cess_ shall be known as 'your Grace.' All Kings and Queens of the Iron Islands shall henceforth be addressed as 'Your Majesty.' Understood?" Cadenzsa smiled; Alannys was certainly getting used to the idea of being a Queen again!

"Er, yes, of course, your Gra-I mean, Your Majesty," said Maester Wendamyr. He and Cadenzsa exchanged a look and a shrug, and he went off to make it so.

"Well, your _Majesty_," said Cadenzsa. "With your permission, I'd like to throw a Masque."

"A _what_?" repeated the Queen, obviously thinking it was some kind of jape. "What for, my baby?"

"We would have them all the time back in Braavos, at the Sealord's Palace. It was a wonderful way for all of the Noble Houses to mingle and get to know each other, and in truth, good-mother, these books are doing almost nothing for me but making me want to outlaw books. You are, however, correct in saying that a Princess should know her people, but you cannot shake hands and share a joke with books. A Masque would be... Well, I'd like to throw one here at Pyke, so I can begin to get better acquainted with my new people. We have the money, now, to do so. And there will be more and more gold coming in with each purple-hulled ship that docks at Lordsport. There shall be a feast, and dancing, and I'll hire bards and other performers as entertainment. There will be a prize for the best costume, and we should invite every House on the Iron Islands, Noble and Knightly and all. And the only rule is that their costume must have something to do with their Heraldry."

The Queen hooted in a shrill cackle. "So you expect House Botley to show up in a coat made of fish? Or House Goodbrother to show up with a Warhorn strapped to their head? Gods, I wonder what House Saltcliffe would do..."

"Theirs is the House that everyone hates?" asked Cadenzsa, flipping through her piles of parchment and her books.

"No, dear, that is House Codd. We don't want them there... 'Though they Do Despise us.' What stupid words are those?"

She paused. "_Rather_ stupid, your Gr- Your Majesty." She shrugged. After some consideration, and enough time to allow the idea to sink in, she offered: "House Kenning should be interesting. That's the symbol of the Storm God's hand with lightning, is it not?"

"It is."

"This will be an excellent way for me to learn the Iron Islanders Houses and the people. I could never sit and read, anyway. I learn best by doing." The Queen shrugged. "I promise, we can afford this Masque. Why, just the other day, we received two-hundred-thousand Gold dragons, and the documents for my shares from the Iron Bank, which are worth millions. As it turns out, my grandmother is beyond thrilled that her _favorite_ granddaughter is a Queen-to-be." It was said with much more disdain than Cadenzsa had intended. Her grandmother, for whom she was named, had disowned her _and_ her father for Cadenzsa's 'ruining the Forel's affluence in Braavos forever', as it had been so nicely put. Not only had they been completely cut off So what if she didn't want to wed the Sealord? Would _you_ want to wed a man after he had conspired to have your beloved killed in cold blood in a way most gruesome? I didn't think so. And her grandmother, for whom she was _named, _should have been the one to stand at her side. But, no. Never. Love is only fair-weather, life had taught her, except when it came to her father. Even though they were wedded, she wondered if there was anyone half-so lecherous as Theon could be. She sometimes thought to look into the mirrors and see how he was, but she was too afraid to think he'd be with someone else...and that she'd have to kill the bitch for touching her husband.

"I don't know if it's so much about the money, my sweet. Balon isn't the type to throw these kinds of things. And, in truth, the Greyjoys are not the House to be throwing feasts and masques."

"It wouldn't be His Majesty's Masque, it would be mine." Why couldn't her mother be here? She was always better at throwing lovely affairs such as these. Cadenzsa was only good as a Dancing Master, and here she was trying to imitate her mother. "I would organize all of it. I have been spending so much time learning all of these Iron Islander songs and dances, I think it is high time I put this new knowledge to good use. And in times of war, people need entertainment and distraction. The people of the Iron Islands need to see that wealth that I am bringing in. With the wealth of the Forels and the Iron Bank of Braavos in our pockets, the Iron Islands will very well rule the world. And a Greyjoy may not be a gracious host, but a Forel certainly is."_  
_

The Queen paused and sat. She sipped some of the jasmine tea that Cadenzsa had provided; the steam curled around her gray face. "If the Iron Bank of Braavos _owns_ the Seven Kingdoms Westeros, as you said it did, then you could end this war at the snap of a finger, could you not?"

Cadenzsa shrugged. "I don't know if a snap of my finger would cause all the men of Westeros to lay down their axes and kiss, but I could send word for the Iron Bank to collect its debt. The Crown of Westeros is not only in millions of dragons of debt to the Lannisters of Casterly Rock, but it is in an even greater deal of debt to the Iron Bank of Braavos. In truth, the Lannisters' wealth would barely make a chip in what the whole of Westeros owes. We would have to seize all of Casterly Rock and their gold mines for the next many years to pay it all back, and that wouldn't touch the rest of the loans that are in Westeros. When a country is at war, the Iron Bank can call, if it wills, the Bravos to collect. The Iron Bank will have its due, we say in Braavos. They could cut off all of Westeros and throw them into an economic ruin, and the bank would then support the Iron Islands instead. The Lannister's gold mines would all belong to us, and the fields of Highgarden would be under the rule of the Iron Bank, too. The Bank would root the Baratheons from Dragonstone and put in someone else. They would take all the people of Mormont, the Sapphire Isles, and every bit of the North would be turned upside-down to get their money back. None of the land would be theirs, anymore, until the debt was paid off. And the Forels have the means to, at least, begin to pay it off. That's how it happens. A King or a Prince dishonors their debts to the Iron Bank, the Bank makes it so that a new King or Prince appears, and _they_ make due on the debt, ensuring their newfound power. Money makes the world go 'round, not titles nor birthrights. Money."

The Queen smiled the Greyjoy's smile. "And you could make it so," she said.

"Not I," said the Princess. "My uncle, Mercurio Forel, is the one who could truly make it so. All he would have to do is sign a paper saying that it was time for Westeros to start paying back the debt."

"And what if they refused to pay because of the War?"

Cadenzsa shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. They would call on _all_ Westerosi loans to be paid, all across the Realm, and they would refuse to give out any new loans until all debts are paid off. It would cause an economic chaos throughout the Realm."

The Queen laughed. "Such a clever girl, you are." She leaned in. "_All_ of my children were clever, you know. Every single one of them."

"Even Theon?" mused Cadenzsa.

"_Especially_ Theon, the little clown," said Alannys.

"Little clown?" laughed Cadenzsa.

"Oh, you're an only child, that's right. Well, what more-often-than-not happens is that the youngest child is the clown, the joker, the jester, the one that smiles and keeps the others from killing each other. And Theon was such a wonderful little clown. He had to be, with such rough souls as my little krakkens. Theon was so clever as a child; he was the clever one. Rodrik _could_ have been the clever one, had Balon allowed it. Rodrik had been born with a gentle heart, until my King stamped it out of him. He became one of the most fearsome ship captains the Iron Islands had ever seen. We were planning on bequeathing him the Iron Fleet when Victarion died, but alas, my good-brother still lives. All _three_ of those half-wits are alive, and my two boys are dead. If you ask me, it was them that should have died, not my boys. Euron is mad and terrifying and an absolute lunatic, and Aeron is a religious fanatic, and Victarion is..." Queen Greyjoy paused. "Well, I just don't like his beard."

It was too much; Cadenzsa busted out with a laugh. A knock came at the door. The brown-eyed Herald, the name of whom Cadenzsa had forgotten, announced through the door:

"Lord Tristifer Botley, your Majesty."

Cadenzsa stood and came next to her good-mother's chair. "He may enter," said Queen Alannys. The door opened, and Cadenzsa beheld a tall and handsome youth with a mop of hair that was messy and eyes that were kind and sweet and big. In a flash of his eyes when it came to meet the Queen's, he saw in his life-glow that of a man who had known to love Alannys as a mother. She saw the shades of four other boys with him, that had also been fostered there, and all of the good memories that came of their lives at Pyke, regardless of the Greyjoy rebellion. With a moment, she even saw that him and Asha, her good-sister whom she had not seen nor heard of since the wedding, had known each other. His aura was warm and romantic, and he was tormented with love; and then it happened.

"Announcing Lord Tristifer Botley of the House Botley, second son of Sawane Botley of Lordsport. My Lord, you are in the Presence of Her Royal Majesty, Queen Alannys Greyjoy, Queen of the Iron Islands, Reaper of Harlaw, Lady of the Ten Towers. My Lord, you are also in the presence of Her Grace, the Princess Cadenzsa Greyjoy, Tamer of Waves, Sister to the Sirens, and the future Queen of the Iron Islands." He bowed, and when he looked up he met Cadenzsa's eyes, and with a flash of seeing her face, Cadenzsa felt the magic within her turn. His face changed. Cadenzsa knew that face; it was the same face a man made when struck by her mother's beauty. And all at once he saw the love of Asha buried under an unending, undying lust for his new Princess. _No_, thought Cadenzsa. _Please don't let me be cursed like my mother is..._

"Tristifer, my boy," said the Queen, holding out her hand. He knelt and kissed it. "How good of you to come."

"My Queen summons me," he answered, in a voice that sounded, to Cadenzsa, a bit nasal. His large eyes were locked still on her face. She smiled as best she could without feeling jitters up and down her spine in a horrid uncomfortable feeling.

"Allow me to present my good-daughter, Princess Cadenzsa, the wife of my son Theon."

Cadenzsa offered her hand. "My Lord," she said.

"I am your servant, my Princess," he said, quickly taking a knee, and he kissed her hand. She heard his thoughts of _'Asha who? This is the most beautiful woman in the world.' _He held onto her hand with a kind of odd desperation. "Ask anything of me, Princess, and it shall be yours." He declared.

The Bravos almost laughed. There was an uncomfortable silence. "May I ask that you relinquish custody of my hand?" He quickly retracted and bowed low. "No, please don't bow like that-"

"-Like what, Princess? Like this? Or would you prefer me bow like this?" He bent, then, at least four different ways, the Queen stifling a laugh or two. She could hear the thoughts of her Majesty, and of Tristifer, and it was becoming all too much.

"Alright, that's enough!" she then near-shouted. Cadenzsa gave a laugh. "Please, stand, and no more bowing. There's no need to worship at my feet." The Queen laughed.

"Tristifer, the Princess shall be escorted all about the island today,and she shall be shown as much of the isle as she likes."

"Of course she shall," said Tristifer with a smile.

There was a pause, and quite an awkward one at that, at least on Cadenzsa's end of things. "Shall we ride?" she finally asked.

"Of course, my Lady."

"'Your Grace,'" corrected the Queen. "And see to it that the Princess isn't harmed at all. See to it that she is well educated in all that she sees. If she is going to rule someday, she should know her people. And another thing: see to it that the word about the island is that they are to address the Princess as 'your Grace.' Understood?"

And so it was that Cadenzsa dressed in a soft trouser of grey-goose-color, and a smart long-coat of the matching shade, all lined with charcoal-colored silks, all covering warm wool shirts and a soft black leather boot which came smartly up to her knee. The Greyjoy Krakken necklace would have been replace by something else, but Theon had tied the knot so tight it could never be undone. Cadenzsa didn't mind it, really, but she didn't like the thought of wearing such a priceless thing out to ride. Either way, her sable mount, her wedding gift from her Uncle Victarion, rode her about Pyke, and to Lordsport, all the same, with Tristifer riding alongside her.

"I must admit," she said to Tristifer, "I am still a novice rider. There's nothing half-so-wary on a horse as a swimming fish, like me."

"I thought your sigil was a golden sea turtle, your Grace?"

Cadenzsa frowned and smiled all at once. "Very good, my Lord."

"All of the Islands have been talking about you since the wedding, Princess Cadenzsa. We have learned to recognize the purple-hulled ships and the golden sea turtles on the Braavosi ships that come in. Did you hear that there was even a song written recently? They call it 'Start Wearing Purple.'" He then laughed. "Perhaps if the Princess is pleased to do so, she could hear a bard sing it for her?"

Cadenzsa wasn't sure how she liked being referred to in the third person, but she was impressed that though her time on the Islands was so short, she had already begun to gain some fame. She was a bit used to fame from being back in Braavos, for being the youngest Dancing Master in Bravos history, and for her beauty, and wit, and charm. She liked it, of course, but only recently had she realized how valuable it was. When she had crossed the Narrow Sea, she found her friends were still loyal to her, and that - despite her history - there was still no Bravos alive that wouldn't gladly pick up a sword for her name or set sail if she commanded them to.

"I'm very interested in the culture of the Iron Islands," she said. "Especially their Songs and their music. And their dances. By the by, I plan to throw a Masque and invite all the Noble Houses of the Iron Islands. There shall be a prize for the best costume; I have not yet decided what the prize should be."

"If I may, your Grace, what is the occasion?"

_Say something Theon would say_, she thought to herself. _Say something royal._ "The occasion is that I will it to be so."

It must have been the right thing a Princess would say, since he bowed his head low. "As your Grace commands," he said. Cadenzsa found all of this rather amusing.

"The ride to Lordsport is a lovely one. And this is your hold?"

"It is, your Grace, and the Lord of Lordsport is my father, Lord Sawane Botley, if it pleases you."

"'If it pleases me,'" mused Cadenzsa quietly to herself with a laugh. "May I ask, my Lord, what will you do if it does _not_ please me?" Lord Botley frowned in confusion. "Will you change your father's name? Or will it be made so that he is no longer the Lord of Lordsport?"

"Does it truly displease you, Princess?"

"No!" she laughed. "I don't even know your father. Will I meet him? Where is your hold? I don't remember seeing a castle here."

"In truth, your Grace, our castle was destroyed in the Greyjoy rebellion."

"Truly? And you have never rebuilt?"

"We have never had the means to do so, your Grace. Any trade that the Iron Islands can get must go to the people, not us. The Greyjoy rebellion took a great toll on the Islands. We paid the Iron Price for trying to win our freedom, it would seem."

The Bravosi shook her head in disbelief. "That is the most noble thing I have ever heard of a Westerosi doing. Truly, my heart is touched." She reached across and touched his hand, and his face flushed a pretty pink. For the first time, she'd thought a Westerosi man to be beautiful. Cadenzsa smiled. "Take me to the place where you live. I swear that we will rebuild. Now that I am here, I shall take care of all of you."

"But, your Grace-"

"No 'buts.' The Iron Islands shall have a golden age. Since I have been here I have seen a great strength of character in all those I meet. The Iron Islands is full of a mighty kind of people." She brushed a few lazy tendrils of hair behind her ear, and as she brought her hand down she felt the black pearls around her neck with her thumb. She was reminded of Theon; he was counting on her, and he trusted her to be here. She didn't know why, but somehow she liked the thought of being trusted with something. "Tell all you see, Lord Tristifer, that should they have any need, they come to Princess Cadenzsa Greyjoy from this day forward. I will rebuild, and the age of Iron will meld with an age of Gold."

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Is this chapter a little boring? Mayhaps. But it's setting up for good stuff. I swear. :3 R&R!


	10. Chapter 10

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything.

**Summary:**

AU. Sequel to "Second Sword of Braavos." This has been edited slightly for the story to make sense as a trilogy. ((A/N: Don't worry, I'll publish each one chapter by chapter, so it'll be fun to read along with!))

Braavos is an ancient and beautiful city of ships, wealth, and purple hulls. The world-renowned Courtesans of Braavos have their own barges and servants to attend them. With The Veiled Lady, the most-mysterious of these Courtesans, Syrio Forel had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.

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**Aeron**

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Aeron was treading water with his new niece, Lady-Princess Cadenzsa Forel-Greyjoy...it was a lot to remember. He sometimes wondered why they had names at all, and what the point of it all was. But Niece she was to him, and Princess she was now, thanks to his brother, who never seemed to tire of warfare, no matter the toll it took on the islands and its people.

The Iron Islands were a sacred and holy place, and its people were the rightful reapers of the world. The Andals and their Seven could not wash away the Drowned God, nor the Storm God with their light of the weak. The strong are the Gods here, and theirs was the way of strength, and salt, and iron. Theirs was the way of might, for the Drowned God created them to be so. The fact that the Drowned God reigned supreme on the Iron Islands now should be a testament Him, and the Age of Heroes, when the Grey King took a mermaid to wife and waged war against the Sea Dragon, Nagga, and used his bones to build-

"Uncle Aeron," called his niece, who was veritably frolicking against the foamy sea waves, holding onto her thin twin braids like a child holding onto a skipping rope. They were thin braids taken from the nape of her neck, two fingers thick, inlaid with a golden ribbon, and the rest of her wild mop of long hair was flowing about and whipping in the sea wind like wild grass. Today, she was under his tutelage, learning the ways of the Drowned and Storm God, and though Aeron had served the Drowned God in Drowning many babes, and tutoring many maids and boys, he had never been so exhausted as he was to teach now, with his new niece, who should have been a Salt Wife at best. "Why did the Drowned God make the Iron Islands?"

"Perhaps if you would stop frolicking, I could tell you," he said, sternly, and quite annoyed that he had been reduced to the role of nursemaid.

"I'm not frolicking, I'm just playing a little," replied she with a smile. She swept the hem of her blue sea-washed gown over the foam, the gold studs glittering in what faint light there was on this stormy-looking day. "Besides, I don't think you can frolic when it's not sunny out." His nephew seemed to have chosen her for a wife for one reason: she reminded him of himself, with his clowning and preposterous questions. Theon was always a little clown, and with a precocious gift for annoyingly questioning 'why', all the time. "Did the Drowned God make the Ironborn so we couldn't frolic?"

"Do you mock the Drowned God, child?"

She stopped dancing about and stood still to say: "No, I was simply questioning why give us free will if we can't use it? Or did he not make people? Did he just make the islands and we showed up, somehow?"

He shot her a look. "The Drowned God _made_ the Ironborn to reave and sack and pillage, and keep our ways alive through blood and song. I suppose you were baptized in the light of the Seven? A pretty chain that the First Men wore as a gift from the Andals?" Cadenzsa shrugged, twirling her curls through her fingers. "The Drowned God is Father, Warrior, _and_ Stranger. He takes Maiden, Mother, and Crone as he likes. He found the Smith in thrall. Do you understand, you indignant little girl?" She nodded with a shrug of her shoulders silently. He snorted through his nose. "Shall we continue our lessons?" She nodded silently with an amiable enough smile.

She walked along the shore with him as he treaded water. She held her skirts up to her shins, revealing the boiled leather boots that scraped against the sand. "So, the Drowned God made the Ironborn to be warriors, et cetera, et cetera," said Cadenzsa. "What of your afterlife? What happens when you die?"

"What is dead may never die, child," said Aeron. "We do not fear battle, nor drowning, for the Drowned God taught us long ago of that. What is dead may never die. When an Ironborn falls in battle, we say that the Drowned God needed a strong Oarsman for his Hall. We were raised from the Sea in the Dawn Age, child, and it is to the sea we return. We live on forever in the bottom of the Sea, where you feast in the God's watery Halls, and make merry, and mermaids will attend to you and sing you songs of your glory. And there, you will wait, until the Drowned God raises you up again, harder and stronger."

"What is dead may never die," she repeated quietly to herself. "Harsh, yet comforting," she commented, this time audible enough to make it clear that it was intended to be heard.

"Even in Death, an Ironborn is a Warrior, and your sons will be warriors, too. The dead wage a constant War against the Storm God, who lives in a castle on the clouds, where ravens are his messengers, and he sends the winds and rain and lightning and thunder to lure the Ironborn off-course. It was the Storm God who first blew the Andals to the Iron Islands, those many centuries ago."

"Why would He do that?" It seemed innocent enough of a question, but Aeron found great offense in it. No Ironborn would ever question it.

"The Storm God did it to subdue us, and turn us away from our Faith of the Drowned God."

"If we don't have Faith in the Drowned God," asked Cadenzsa, "does that mean he will cease to exist?"

"You are a rather indignant child, aren't you?" grumbled Aeron.

His little niece snorted through her flat nose. "You're not as fun as Theon said you were," she shot back. "Theon told me all about his jolly Uncle Aeron and how he always had a waterskin pouch of wine and a song to sing and a wonderful laugh to share. Theon told me that you used to carry him about on your shoulders and run up and down the shore together."

"That was ages ago!" snapped the priest. "And I was a foolish man. I am better off, here, since the Drowned God raised me up from the sea. The Storm God meant to smite me away, but I was risen up, and now I serve. Now, I am Damphair, and one of the most-respected of the Drowned Men on all of the Iron Islands. Does that satisfy your curiosities?" And then Cadenzsa gave him a rather indignant look, and shrugged her shoulders again. "And stop shrugging; it's a non-committal gesture."

Cadenzsa then laughed. "I'm sorry, Uncle," she said. "Let's continue. How best can a Rock Wife serve the Drowned God?"

"A Rock Wife," he began, "like any Ironborn, best serves the Drowned God when she protects her home. While the Ironborn raid, the Rock Wife keeps the home, protects and raises her children, teaches them the ways of the Drowned God, to be a warrior-"

"-The Rock Wife teaches the children to be warriors?" she suddenly interrupted.

"When her husband is away, somebody has to do it," said he. "Unless she has a brother, or someone else to do it for her. A Rock Wife's duties are many. It is _her_ responsibility to be the beacon for her man to come back by. She is the guiding light, it is said." She seemed satisfied enough with it, but, in truth, Aeron was simply annoyed that he had to tell these things to a woman-grown. "You might enjoy being a Rock Wife," he then said. "It is the Rock Wife who proudly keeps the home, and wears the jewels that her husband brings back. It is she that proudly shows his capabilities as a warrior, for her own might. And when he returns, she sings for him, and they feast, and make merry, and give thanks by the sea. And she watches, and is steadfast."

And then when he looked, he saw her smile quietly, secretly, to herself and put her hand on her small, flat belly. She then moved her hand across and then wrapped her arms around herself, around her front, so it would only look like she was shielding her body from the wind. She had that look about her, that kind of look he had seen on many a woman. He might have been joyous about it, were he not him.

"Have you told him, yet?" She then quickly looked at him with a wide-eyed glance. "Does my nephew know he will be a father?"

She smiled and shook her head with a shy, knowing smile.

"And why not?"

"I didn't think it was the kind of thing you wrote someone about, Uncle," she admitted. "I'll tell him in-person."

"It might be a year, maybe more, before you see him in-person again." Cadenzsa frowned. "Write him tonight about it."

After some time to consider this, she then asked: "Uncle, do the Rock Wives ever go to War, too? Do the Ironborn women ever fight?"

"If you're thinking of going to War to tell Theon, I will tell you: absolutely not. The Rock Wife's job is to stay _here_, on the Iron Islands, and _as_ a Rock Wife, will stay here." His tone was stern and unyielding. He would have been more joyous, more considerate of her, were she not a Bravosi. She would never be a true Rock Wife, for the Rock Wives were Ironborn. She would never be Ironborn, nor would any children she gave House Greyjoy ever be. Aeron's best hope for any true Ironborn Greyjoys ever again were going to have to be from either Asha or Victarion. He didn't want to think of children from Euron, though he had probably fathered bastards as mad as he is, now living all over the world.

"You don't like me because I'm not Ironborn, do you?" she said then with a smile. Aeron shot her a bit of a dagger-filled glance, for she had seen clearly the truth, but it didn't matter at all. "It's alright," she said. "I understand. You haven't seen Theon in ten years and he comes back with a betrothed in-tow, and you surely are rightly suspicious of my loyalties or my intentions. I know that your plans for everything may have changed because of me, and if I've caused you any kind of grief, I'm sorry." There was a long moment between them. "I was hoping to confide in you, Uncle. I don't think that His Majesty or Uncle Victarion are the kind to confide in, and Theon told me that..." She then paused, and said shyly "Well, he told me that you were his favorite uncle. And this is my home, now. And I want to do something for the people."

"That frivolous little Masque of yours isn't enough for you?"

"The Masque isn't a frivolity, Uncle, it's just a for me to get to know the nobility of the Iron Islands. If I'm to be their Queen someday, I need to know recognize over whom I am ruling. And, besides, in times of War, a distraction from it all is a good thing, every so often."

"Then why not simply get on a horse and travel to their keeps, and leave me to do more _important_ things?"

"Assimilating your good-niece into the Ironborn culture isn't important? What _do_ you do, anyhow? What does a Drowned Man do?" A harsh breeze came, an omen from the Storm God, perhaps, blowing through her wild black hair.

"A Drowned Man is armored by the Sea, and communes with the Drowned God, and serves the Sea."

"But_ how_? What do you do? How do you pray? Do you do care for orphans? Heal the sick? What do you _do_?"

Aeron was growing tired of this little girl and her questions, so he quickly dismissed her to go on with his brother Victarion, who was going to be with her for the rest of the afternoon, touring around Lordsport and visiting the ships of the Iron Fleet. Aeron didn't mind so much that he was the King's brother again, but he did mind what came with it.

He lead a Holy life, living as a hermit on the shores, communing with the Sea, carrying always a waterskin of sea water to bless those who would ask him to. He lived the life a Drowned Man should have, and he lived as best he could, through example. His was not a Warrior's way, anymore, but he was glad to serve the Warriors. He was glad to serve his brother, for he loved his brother. And when his brother died, he would be glad to see Victarion on the Seastone Chair, but Theon? He knew not. The boy had only spent a short while on the Iron Islands before heading off to war.

He loved the boy, quite dearly, when he was here, but the trouble was that he loved the _boy_, not the man he had become. In truth, nobody on the islands _knew_ the man he had become, which was the trouble. Aeron would have been glad to reach out to the boy, and again show him the ways of the Drowned God, as befitting of any Prince and ruler to the Iron Islands. He hadn't been born a Prince, though, but nobody had told him that. The boy was nine when the rebellion took its worst turn, and his castle was torn down. Aeron feared for Theon the most, and far more than his father had feared, he thought, for he knew what was going to happen to the boy should Balon rise in rebellion again.

Theon would have turned out better were he on the Islands. It wasn't the boy's fault that the Starks had made him theirs. The boy was always quite codependent, always trying to tag along with his brothers but being spurned, his sister there to wipe his tears. The boy and Asha had been inseparable, absolutely inseparable, as children. He was teased, and he hid behind his mother's skirt, but he was a child, and that's what children did. Theon didn't have a chance to become an Ironman like his father. He was born to be one, but couldn't grow to be one. It was a grave tragedy, but what could one do about it? Each breath was a gift, and there was no use in wasting breath for what could have been.

The next day, Aeron came to court, as bid by the King of the Iron Islands, his brother, and stood by the ancient Seastone Chair that was once the Grey King's. The Crown of the Grey King was ancient, and heavy, and had tendrils of petrified driftwood swirling up from a thick band of black Iron. There were no jewels in the Iron King's crown, that was saved for his Queen, Alannys, who now had her own crown of iron and black diamonds. Princess Cadnezsa, who stood, not sat, nearby had a crown herself, which was a thin band of iron, no thicker than her dainty thumb, with a single black diamond there in the brow, round and exquisitely cut. She wore it proudly on her black, curly head, and her hair was pulled back gently, and those twin braids from the nape of her neck draped over the front of her black gown. Alannys had gladly made a pet of her, it seemed. And there was Victarion, too, who stood nearby, who was not only the Commander of the Iron Fleet, but now the Hand of the King, and he wore that badge of office melded onto his armor.

"Announcing Serrah Fiyero of the House Forel, of Braavos, from the Iron Bank of Braavos. Your Majesty, please," bowed the fat Herald, who had a great booming voice, fitting for those who had that kind of job.

In came the Bravosi, all garbed in purple silks and velvet robe which went down to his shapely calves, with a top of curly black hair, looking like a thistle plant. He wore supple gloves of black suede, and boots(if you could call them that) of elaborate fashion, wrapping up to his knees. His trousers ballooned in black, looking like two sealskins filled with water, and back up to his small waist, at which he held a skinny sword, much like the one that his niece held with her at all times, even at court. In his arms he held a brown-and-red leather-bound book, a ledger, no doubt, and on his bearded face was a grand smile. He bowed low, and oddly, with one foot stepping behind the other. To Aeron and the rest of the Ironborn, the Bravosi looked very much like a Fool. He looked to Cadenzsa, who looked very much like she wanted to bound up and jump into her uncle's arms, like the little girl she was.

"You may speak," said Balon.

"Your Majesty, the King! Your Majesty, the Queen!" He bowed to each. "And, your _Grace_, the Princess, my little starfish!" To Aeron's surprise, he had a good mastery of the Commontongue with excellent diction. Perhaps he had to have that, being a Banker. "I am Fiyero Forel, and I have come with the final paperwork necessary, as per my niece's request, to call to debt the Seven Kingdoms. I have come, as well, with the remaining ledgers of all the accounts in the Forel House name, and Cadenzsa's final accounts with her Father's, Syrio Forel's."

"And what of her father?" inquired the Queen, holding up her finger. "When will he come to Court? We have not yet met the man who has given us his daughter. Highly unusual, don't you think?"

The Bravosi's face seemed calm enough, and kept a smile on it well enough, but Aeron saw the discomfort in his eyes. "My brother is in King's Landing, your Majesty, and we have not heard from him in some time. I am certain, however, that he is alive and well and anxious to meet all of you in person." And then he winked to his little niece with lashes as thick as a battleaxe. "Until then, I am your humble servant."

Balon adjusted himself in the Seastone Chair, the crown looking right at home on his balding head. "Serrah," he began, "the Iron Islands have not known great wealth in some long time, and I can think of nobody better to make the Master of Coin to the Iron Islands than a member of the House Forel."

"Master of Coin, your Majesty?" The Bravosi looked confused.

"If I may, your Majesties?" spoke his niece, the Princess. Balon nodded and motioned for her to come forward. "Uncle, the King of the Iron Islands wishes to honor you, by having you be the accountant and bookkeeper for the Kingdom. I have told them of your skills and prowess with numbers, and since I am now the future Queen, I would have you named Master of Coin. Nobody can balance a budget like you can, Uncle."

"So, I would...?"

"Live here, yes," said Princess Cadenzsa. And then she said some things in Bravosi, or perhaps High Valyrian, and then the Bravosi looked to Balon. He bowed low, with great gesturing of his hands.

"Your Majesties, it would be an honor to serve the Greyjoys, for we are now kin. We are a family, and what does family do? Look out for each other!" He bowed again. "I will send word to Braavos at once, and we shall begin. As they say, the Iron Bank will get its due. And so shall the Iron Islands."

"Your loyalty, Serrah, to your niece..." began the Queen. "It is most touching. And comforting."

"I would do anything for my little starfish. Cadenzsa is our only girl for a whole generation!"

"Is that so?"

"It is, your Majesty, my Queen! My brother, Syrio, has four brothers, and each of those brothers - myself included - have had nothing but sons. And Syrio has had our only girl, our cherished one, our starfish."

"Starfish?" sneered the King.

"A childhood nickname, your Majesty," said Cadenzsa, with a curt smile.

Balon Greyjoy rolled his eyes a bit, and turned back to the Bravosi. "You accept, then? Good. Off to it, then. Heyla and our Steward will see to it that you are made comfortable here, and we shall commence work in the morning."

"At Your Majesties' command!" and with another bow, the Bravosi went to join the crowd at court, and young Lord Tristifer Botley came forward, with his father and brother. They all bowed.

"Announcing Lord-"

"Oh, shut it, we know who they are!" snapped Balon. The Queen laughed a little, then stood up. Tristifer came foward and knelt.

"You sent for me, Your Majesty?" he asked.

"We did. Or, rather, the Princess did." Alannys motioned to Cadenzsa, who then came forward, and put her hand on her sword.

"Lord Tristifer Botley," she began, her head high. "You have done me many a great service since my time on the Iron Islands. Not only have you been my personal chaperone at court, but you have been my companion throughout my travels of these glorious islands. It is you who had introduced me to all whom I may need to know, and it is you who has been loyal and dutiful to me, even though you knew nothing of me nor my House before my coming here. I must ask, why?"

Aeron inwardly frowned. Why? _Why_?

"I am loyal to you, my Princess-"

"I know you are, Lord Tristifer, but I must ask _why_ you are loyal to me. The loyalty you have given is the kind only given to those whom have known each other for their life's span. And you give yours to me so willingly, so openly. I hope you will forgive my impertinence, but it is merely question of why, out of curiosity."

Tristifer looked between the King and Queen with those large eyes of his, and then to Victarion before looking to Aeron. His black brows tilted up in question, and it took a nod of the head from the High Drowned Man for him to finally answer. "I am loyal to you, my Princess, because you are worthy of it. In truth, I can think of no woman in this world that deserves more loyalty than you. I am loyal to you because you are fearless, for that was shown at Saltcliffe. And for your strength, which was shown on Great Wyk when you were presented to the Iron Fleet. And there is no person in this world that can match your prowess and skill with a sword. And there is no person in this world that is more just, or generous, or beautiful than you, Princess Cadenzsa, for no one else would have build House Botley a new castle like you did. And when you are the Queen of the Iron Islands, I will gladly follow you the same, and my brothers and myself will keep the great castle of Silverscale for generations to come. House Botley is, of course, in eternal debt to you."

The Princess smiled with white pearls of teeth. She plucked one of the white jasmine flowers from the boxes she kept at the windows now, and held it to the boy. "Do you know what this is?"

"The Princess's favorite jasmine flowers, your Grace?"

"And do you know what they mean?" He shook his head. The Princess began to pluck its petals and sprinkle them on the floor at her feet. "In the Summer Isles, they say that jasmine is a flower of sensuality, of deep love. In Braavos, they are said to represent a divine sort of hope, as well as a certain kind of amiability. You can also brew it in a tea, and it is said when worn, you bring wealth and good fortune your way." The flower ran out of petals, and they were all over the floor, and in Tristifer's hair. "Will you swear yourself to me?" The Botleys all looked confused. "I hear the Iron Islands have no Knights. I would change that. I would make you, Tristifer Botley, the First Knight of the Jasmine Order, an order of Knights sworn to me and to advise me in times of war, famine, prosperity and poverty, and to protecting the good, and divine hope of all the people of the Iron Islands."

He bowed his head low. "I-I am not worthy of the honor, your Grace."

"I say you are," said the Queen just then, who went and sat. "Go on, then, draw your sword if you will say the words to vow yourself to your future Queen."

And Tristifer Botley then drew his sword and held it on his knee. "My sword is yours, Princess Cadenzsa Greyjoy. My sword is yours, my House is yours, my ships are yours, my heart is yours. From this day until my last day." And then Cadenzsa drew her own sword, a skinny slit of a blade that shone brighter than a quick and slippery silverfish in the water.

"Then, with the power vested in my by the grace of the Drowned God, and the people of the Iron Islands, and House Greyjoy, I hereby dub you Ser Tristifer Botley, First Knight of the Jasmine Order." And she tapped him on each shoulder, and then quickly slit him across his right cheek with her sword, his blood running in a trickle down his face. "Wear that scar with honor, now, for you and I are bound in blood. Rise, Ser Tristifer Botley of the Jasmine Order, and be recognized." Applause erupted like a crashing wave in the Great Keep's Hall, and the Ironborn loved her all the more. She was rich, and she was beautiful, and she made everyone love her with ease (in truth, it was almost too much ease). Today, she truly was the heir to the Iron Islands, and truly she would be an excellent queen, beloved by all who saw her face. And that made Aeron all the more nervous, for not knowing who she was.

That evening was the Masque that Cadenzsa had been planning for the past month. Music and dancing were booming all around, and there were acrobats and tumblers and jugglers from the Free Cities that had come for the event. A mummer's troupe had put on a Braavosi play of _Seven Drunken Oarsmen_ to begin the festivities, all of which the Iron Islanders found most amusing, considering both the content of the play and that it was an actual story, not some silly Greenland farce. They even had pretty girls and young boys painted all in bronze and draped in painted-gold roughspun linens to resemble statues of bronze, all standing and holding candlesticks, giving a fright or a laugh to those too drunk to realize that they were people.

House Botley came in coats of green with hats of silver-looking silks in the shape of fish, and Ser Tristifer's costume was plain, yet made sense for their House. House Blacktyde came in particolored coats and cloaks of sable-and-vert, in the shape of their House's blazon of arms. House Harlaw, of course, came all in black, with flowing robes of silk, and each held a large scythe that gleamed in the candlelight. Ralf Kenning was there, with his sister, Lady Rowena, who wore a gown of grey with gold lightning bolts stitched all down the back and around the front of the skirt. Her hat was of fluffed and stuffed sheeps wool that was fashioned to resemble (what was supposed to be, he reckoned) a great, black storm cloud. House Drumm had a most-interesting costume of red, and bones (whose bones or what kind of bones they were, Aeron did not know), all stitched up and down their fronts, and they had gloves of red sueded leather, with hand-bones attached around like armor. Everyone recognized House Saltcliffe, for they had all fashioned head-dresses to make them like silver sea-serpents were coming out of each of their heads, and all of them garbed in a handsome silvery-grey. Why, even House Weaver had come out for the event, with their gold-and-white feathers to represent the golden weaverbird of their Sigil.

The Queen of the Iron Islands was wearing her House Harlaw colors and costume, too, with an elegant scythe of silver, and a mask of black. The Greyjoy House simply wore long coats of gold striped with black, to represent the ten tentacles of House Krakken. Not Princess Cadenzsa, though, nor her uncle, nor her cousin, it seemed.

Aeron didn't expect the Bravosi to come alone, and it seemed as though he did not. His son, a boy of sixteen, it seemed, had snuck into Pyke with him, both wearing a rather elaborate costume of leather and gold-weaving down the front, and both with head-dresses shaped to be turtle's heads, with great blue jewels for the eyes. On their backs they had gold-leaved tortoise shells, to represent the Forel's sigil, the golden tortoise, holding a jasmine flower, which they signified by holding bouquets of the blooms in their hand. He could see underneath the headdress was a mop of black and thick curly hair, which seemed to be quite the Forel trait. But not Princess Cadenzsa.

She came into the great Hall wearing a gown of immeasurable quality, of thick black and gold velvet and long gloves of gold silk that went up and over her elbows. Gold ran up her bodice to form the Krakken's body, and her great long hair was inlaid with gold ribbons and braids, all flying underneath her mask of gold, that went up high for the Krakken's long head. She had tails of gold silk coming out from behind her at the bustle of her long skirt, and her costume was certainly the highlight of the evening. When she came into the Hall, a great deal of applause erupted, and there were cheers and cheers and cheers. There was a great deal of dancing and feasting, and some great deal of talking, and then some more feasting and drinking again. And the feast was of a decadence that the Iron Islands hadn't seen much of in years, perhaps centuries. The Iron Islanders didn't even know what to do with such beautiful-looking food,but only when the Princess told them to 'dig right in', did they, but not before Cadenzsa had asked Aeron to step up to the head of the feast, and lead them all in prayer. It was then that Cadenzsa took a drink of her wine, asked them all to bow their heads, and they did. They all bowed their heads, including Balon and his Queen, with their crowned heads.

Aeron took a sip of his water to parch his dry throat. "I do not wish to give thanks tonight, for we have nothing _yet_ to be thankful for. Ten years ago, my brother rose our ships and our men in rebellion against the Usurper, Robert Baratheon, King of the Seven Kingdoms. Now, that King is dead, and, if rumors are true, a Lannister Bastard reigns over them all. Now, we have risen again, axes in hand. Have we learned anything from that rebellion, when Princes Rodrik and Maron fell? What is dead may never die. Our last son, Theon Greyjoy, had been made a Greenlander, but with his vows to uphold the Drowned God as his faith, if the Drowned God is with him and chooses to give him strength, this may be the turning point in our history that will bring us back to the Old Way. This may be our finest hour, or our greatest victory. All I ask, as you go forth and feast tonight, is that you remember the Old Ways, and on the morrow, you serve the Drowned God so that He might hear our prayers, and send the Lannisters to the bottom of the sea. What is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger."

The Masque reminded Aeron very much of the foolish man he once was, before the Drowned God raised him up. Victarion, though serious, would even be laughing tonight (if he were there), which should have been a testament to those Myrish green-nectar wines that the Princess had sent so much for. The people loved her, very much, as did the Greyjoy family. She met her Harlaw cousins that night, and they loved her too, it seemed. All who met her loved her, except for Aeron. But he had no love for any man anymore; he was a servant of the Drowned God, and he was raised up again for that purpose. Were he the man he was before he had been raised up, harder and stronger, he might have been at the center of it all, doing the Finger Dance in the middle of the ballroom, and singing songs. But he would not do the Finger Dance, for it was how he lost his elder brother Urrigon, from the infection that came of losing half of his hand. Never again.

"This is simply splendid, we must have one of these every year!" said the Queen to Princess Cadenzsa over the feast, who had twined her long fingers with hers. "And I must tell you, my dear, I could get used to being a wealthy kingdom."

"The Nobility will spend months working on their costumes, I'm sure, to prepare for next year's Masque," answered Cadenzsa. She then turned to Aeron and smiled at him through her mask. "Uncle, I was thinking about something today." _That should be a change for you, silly nit_, thought Aeron. "Why does the Drowned God not have a house of worship?"

Aeron's anger flared. "The Drowned God needs no '_house_', as His is the Sea."

Silly Princess Cadenzsa giggled a bit and shrugged. "I'm not saying that we should build a house for a God. I'm simply saying that it might be a nice thing to do for the clergy to build a temple of worship to the Drowned God. It would be a place for the Drowned Men to live, and teach and preach their word, and offer blessings."

"What, like your Septons in their pretty temples? Like their robes of gold?"

"Oh, bugger off, you little shit, she's saying she doesn't want you to sleep like a damn hermit on the beach anymore!" shouted Balon over his wine.

"And so she would have the Drowned Men forsake the Sea for a handsome stone house with a handsome stone wall?" snapped Aeron back.

"Silly girl, now you've gone and done it," toned Alannys quietly to her new daughter. "putting brother against brother."

"Well, you stink like a dead whale, and you are not too holy for a house or a bath, now and then."

"The Drowned God's is the one of the Old Way, Balon, and you would do well to remember that. Or are you too high and mighty on that throne of yours, now, to remember that? This is a hard place, and it is for hard men, and a hard man can sleep by the sea with ease."

"You want to know hard? You want to know? Try losing two sons in war, ya daft cunt!"

"A war which _you caused, _you blustering old windbag!"

"Oh, you were there and happy enough to play along with me when I was fighting for the freedom of my people, and what were you doing while I was doing that? You were drinking and that waterskin of yours was filled with ale!"

"You fucking-!"

"Ironmen!" Princess Cadenzsa stood up suddenly, raising her goblet and shouting over the feast. "If I may have your attention, I would like very much to propose a toast!" The men and women all raised their goblets and horns, and looked up. "A toast, to their Majesties, the King and Queen of the Iron Islands, to the health and fortitude of my uncle, Lord-Commander Victarion Greyjoy of the Iron Fleet, who has just informed us that Fair Isle is now of the Iron Islands, and it is now ours! To Fair Isle!" And she held up a flag of Fair Isle, which had come that morning. It would hang in Pyke forever, now.

"TO FAIR ISLE!" all but screamed the Ironborn. Princess Cadenzsa then drank, licked her pink lips, and smiled.

"And further! Another toast, to my uncle, Aeron Greyjoy, the most-respected of the Drowned Men. I asked him if he would like a temple to the Drowned God built, and he said 'no, the Sea is His temple.' Truly, a man of great wisdom, for the Drowned God does not need a pretty house to live in. But, surely, my Ironborn men-" she then drank again "-we must make it known that ours is the way of the Drowned God, and I shall instead build a monument to the Drowned God, a great statue, where it will pump sea water from his mouth, and the tide pool which it forms shall be a Holy Place, where all might pay homage to the Drowned God." She smiled "To his Holiness. We would surely be lost without you."

"To his Holiness!" answered the Ironborn. They drank.

Aeron stepped forward, and all of them bowed their heads to him. As he passed through the masque through the rest of the evening, they all bowed with great respect, befitting royalty. He was asked to bless a few of the children that had come to the festivities, and though he did not wish to, he stayed for the rest of the evening. The masque lasted until dawn, when the sun rose over Pyke's shore, and the light danced on the waves. The carriages and ships all sailed for their respective homes and keeps, but a few of the Harlaws stayed, though most could normally not stand Balon under any circumstances, they very much enjoyed the company of their new daughter and niece.

A raven flew in that morning, just as Aeron was gathering his waterskin and cudgel. Maester Wendamyr came and intercepted the Royal family as they were on their way to their beds. Balon was laughing and leaning on Alannys when the Maester found them.

"A raven of great importance, your Majesty," he said.

"Oh, bugger the ravens, the King wants to sleep!" said Balon.

Cadenzsa came padding over in stocking feet, her pretty beaded-black shoes in one hand and her mask in the other hand. "Is that from Theon?" she asked.

"Go to bed, sweet girl, you've been up all night," said Alannys, who now had Balon's thin lips at her neck, nipping down as she took the raven from the maester. Aeron rolled his eyes at his brother and looked away. "Oh Gods..." gasped the Queen. Aeron turned back around as Alannys handed the raven to the King. Balon frowned, pushed the letter back at his wife and then pushed through the lot of them.

"Where's he going? What's wrong?" asked Cadenzsa.

Alannys sighed. "It's Asha," she said, handing the Princess the letter. "She's taken Winterfell. And she demands that we send men to help her hold it, in her own war against the Greenlands."

* * *

Bum-bum-BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMM MMMMMM!

OH NO! OH MY GOD! WHAT DID I DO!?

Does this mean Asha will take Theon's place in the fate of Winterfell? Does this mean that SHE WILL BE PREY TO THE BETRAYAL OF HER MEN AND PREY TO THE TORTURE OF THE BASTARD OF BOLTON, WHERE THEON WOULD HAVE BEEN HELD NOW?! STAY TUNED!


	11. Chapter 11

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything.

**Summary:**

AU. Sequel to "Second Sword of Braavos." This has been edited slightly for the story to make sense as a trilogy. ((A/N: Don't worry, I'll publish each one chapter by chapter, so it'll be fun to read along with!))

Braavos is an ancient and beautiful city of ships, wealth, and purple hulls. The world-renowned Courtesans of Braavos have their own barges and servants to attend them. With The Veiled Lady, the most-mysterious of these Courtesans, Syrio Forel had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.

* * *

**Theon**

* * *

Music erupted all over the small village of Oxcross, and every Northern soldier and Ironborn was shouting and dancing, and Theon even recognized some of the songs the Ironborn men were chanting and shouting in the Hall. The Lannisters never stood a chance against them, thought Theon, and this was proof. The Ironborn were not soldiers, Cadenzsa had said. What did she know? They were ferocious warriors. They were mighty men, many of them far rougher than the Northerners would ever be. Theon was proud to have a good portion of the Iron Fleet at his behest, awaiting at Fair Isle for the next move. He'd taken a small battalion of men with him of five-hundred, as well as his crew from the Leviathan. More men came, of course, when battle came, but many were still waiting with his uncle Victarion at Fair Isle.

From what they had surmised so far, the plan was to keep Fair Isle as a colony of the Islands, and reave along the western coast, for it seemed the best. Fair Isle had fallen shockingly quickly against the Ironborn, and Theon had even sent the Fair Isle flag to his father. Robb had gone on a full-on invasion of Oxcross, and therefore was beginning to declare war on the Westerlands, the place of the Lannister's strength. It was an underhanded move, but Theon had suggested that they call Cadenzsa to make the call for the Iron Bank of Braavos to collect on their debts. From a raven from his mother, he had learned that Cadenzsa's uncle, Mercurio, was the one that could make it so Westeros was in economic ruin, and his brother, Cadenzsa's other uncle, Fiyero, had come to Pyke to become the Master of Coin to the Kingdom of the Iron Islands. And, apparently, Cadenzsa's _Gran-mama _had sent all of the necessary paperwork to make it all so. Cadenzsa was far wealthier than any Lannister, and her family could rule over Casterly Rock as another colony to the Iron Islands. The Forels of Casterly Rock, Lords of the Westerlands...he liked the sound of that, which was the sound of Cadenzsa getting her family back.

It had been a short three months since he and Cadenzsa were wedded, and every moment he wasn't with her, he thought of her. He wrote her when he could, but, in truth, he didn't write as often as he had said he would, mostly because he assumed that she was watching him with her magic mirrors. The strange thing was that she rarely wrote back. She had written him three letters in response to his dozen, and while Theon found it rather queer, he reckoned he ought not to stew over it too much. What could she _really_ be doing there other than learning how to be an Iron Lady? Was that truly interesting in comparison to war? In truth, she had most-likely, and rightly, thought that her daily activities were too boring and unworthy of writing about. He was the one fighting the war.

This war was profitable, it was, though. In truth, Theon felt himself becoming more and more accustomed to his people, and his people seemed to be liking him more and more. The Ironborn did not have value in song or word, but rather in strength and in deeds. Theon liked it; Theon understood it. What good were words, anyway? Words are just sounds you can make with your mouth, said Cadenzsa once. Gods, he missed her. At night, he'd sometimes wank himself into a coma just thinking about her. Waking up without her, though, wasn't as queer as one might think. He was used to waking up alone. Though they were wedded now, and had been in love for nearly a year, they had only slept next to each other once, on their wedding night.

She was fine enough to sleep next to; he didn't notice her tossing or turning, and when he woke up, he was tangled up in her beautiful hair, all braids and curls. Theon loved her hair, for it reminded him of soft seaweed, and he imagined that it was what a mermaid's hair would be like. He woke up next to her, and saw her asleep, and he loved her, over and over again. He wanted to fall asleep next to her again, but he told himself that he'd see her as soon as he took King's Landing. Theon was going to sit on the Iron Throne, and Cadenzsa was going to be his Queen, and then he would leave the Five Kingdoms - Five, not Seven - in ruin, and then go back home to the Iron Islands, to sit on the Seastone Chair.

Robb was seated next to Theon, a bit sour-faced, and he didn't really like the thought of celebration, but Theon's Ironborn men were too rowdy, and Theon wasn't about to deprive his people of a celebratory romp. They were dancing and shouting, and making eyes at only the prettiest of Northern women. Had they taken Salt Wives? Theon didn't know, nor did he truly care. The laws of the Salt Wife were clear: you only took the prettiest ones, and you cared for them and provided for them; it's not like they were being raped and left to raise bastards on their own, were they? If things were different, he could think of a few pretty girls and whores he'd bedded in the past that _might_ have been good enough to be his Salt Wives, but things were the way they were, and Theon only needed Cadenzsa.

"Smile, your Grace!" said Theon with a nudge to his friend's shoulder. "Yet another victory against the Lannisters."

"The Ironborn are more ferocious than I had heard," said Robb with an even tone. "Blood-thirsty axe-wielders."

"What of it?" Robb shrugged, quiet. "You're worried I can't control them?" japed Theon. "They're loyal to me, I know it. They fight for me. And they've all been itching for a good fight since the rebellion. And be grateful, for now we have the mines of the Crag, and we have taken Castamere, as well. It can be a stronghold for us, and for our cause." He snapped for his squire, Wex Pyke, to bring more wine, which he did.

"Ser Stevron Frey died," said Robb grimly.

"So did Ser Stafford Lannister," said Theon with a grin. "Let not Lord Frey grieve too long over his children. He's got a hundred of the little weasels around, and his daughter shall be a queen. Remember?"

"Kind Renly was murdered recently, too," said Robb. "An assassin came...what do you think Stannis Baratheon would do to us?"

"Be brave, Robb, you always were." And Theon squeezed his hand. Then there came a great bit of crashing, and a throng of Ironmen wearing the Greyjoy Krakken emblazoned on their shields came in, pounding the broadside of their axes against the metal of their chestplates. Theon and the Northmen all stood. He took a step forward as Robb put a hand in front of his mother to keep her behind him. Theon did not recognize these men, and feared that his sister had come to tear everything down. "Who are you to wear the Greyjoy's Krakken on your shields?"

"Take a wild guess," came a voice, and the men stood to attention, then parted to form lines on either side, and Theon's heart soared at the woman all clad in a gown of black silk with grey lace trim at the sleeves and collar.

"Cadenzsa!"

And then she laughed, and Theon launched himself over the table and into her arms. She laughed and he spun her around in his arms, and the air around him became sweet and fragrant from the jasmine in her hair. Her feet came to the ground and she pulled away and smiled.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's a long story," she confessed, " and I swear I will tell you, later. But first, let me see this King in the North."

He smiled and put her arm around his, their fingers twined. When he looked up, Robb's face was stone with combination of shock and happiness and confusion. Lady Stark's face was like stone, full of that sour disapproval, and Theon couldn't think of a happier moment to throw his head high and march up to the Northern King and the Queen-mother and bow in a grand fashion.

"Your Grace, Lady Stark, may I present my wife?"

Robb's smile grew. "Princess Cadenzsa," he greeted, carefully.

"Oh, piss on that, come down here and greet me properly!" The Ironborn laughed as the King in the North came to greet their Princess, their beloved Princess, and with a kiss on the cheek and arms wrapping around each other. Robb smiled and laughed over Cadenzsa's shoulder, and looked to Theon in disbelief. She then reached out and grasped Theon's hand, and looked between them with that pretty smile of hers, white pearls on gold sand, with pink flower petals as her lips. "Look at us, the three of us, the way it should be, together." Robb was smiling at her new voice. "I always hoped that we would be together." And then she looked up. "Lady Stark," she dipped low.

"Lady Greyjoy," she said. "You look well."

"Thank you," she said. "I am." She then cleared her throat and motioned for two knights to come forward. One of them was tall as a young tree, and thick as an old one. He didn't know if it was with fat or solid muscle he was so thick, and he had a beard of reddish-brown and teeth that could make keys. The second was slender with a pretty-enough face for a man. Theon frowned, for he did not ever remember there being Knights on the Iron Islands. "May I present Ser Claron Volmark of, well, Volmark, and Ser Tristifer Botley of Lordsport, Knights of the Jasmine Order."

"'Jasmine Order?'" repeated Theon in confusion.

"Absolutely!" said Cadenzsa. "An order of Knights that will swear themselves to selfless virtue, to divine hope. It was my idea. Ser Tristifer is my First Knight, for the many great things he's done for me on the Iron Islands...and Ser Claron saved my life from a shark while I was swimming. He dove off of his boat and beat the thing to death with his fists."

"A _shark_?" gasped Robb in shock.

"I wouldn't lie to you," said Cadenzsa. "But it doesn't matter, now. I see I have interrupted a celebratory feast."

"Join us, Princess," said Robb, leading her up to the table where they sat.

Cadenzsa turned to her battalion, and her two knights. "Join them! The Northerners are our allies! Be merry, Ironmen!"

"You heard Her Grace!" came the rough-and-boisterous voice of Ser Claron. "Let's be merry!"

"'Her Grace?'" asked Robb, pulling the chair out for the Princess, who gracefully sat.

"That reminds me-" she turned to Theon. "Your mother has decided that the Princes and Princesses of the Iron Islands should be addressed as 'Your Grace, and the Kings and Queens addressed as 'your Majesty.'" She raised her goblet as Theon poured her wine. "Your Grace," she addressed him, and he liked the sound of it. He came and kissed his Princess's hand, and she smiled.

"Princess," said Robb. "You look well, royalty suits you," he said. "I take it that you like it on the Iron Islands?"

"I love it," she said, sipping her wine. "Cold and wet and rainy...it reminds me of Braavos in the autumn."

"You never told me it was like Braavos," said Theon.

Cadenzsa turned to Theon and smiled in a manner most flirtatious. "Well, you never asked me, my sun and stars."

He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he sat with her, and Robb, and they tried to ease the tension between the Starks and Greyjoys, but Robb couldn't help but ask Cadenzsa:

"Your Grace, what brings you to the battlefield?" He seemed to have no problem calling Cadenzsa 'your Grace', and Theon wasn't surprised, for who else had that regal air about them other than Cadenzsa Forel. She was the one, between the three of their Houses - Greyjoy, Stark, Forel, Krakken, Direwolf, Sea Turtle - that seemed most at-home with being royalty. Theon loved it, of course, but Cadenzsa was the one that was the true leader of the three. Cadenzsa threw her head back and commanded, Cadenzsa raised a sword and led, and Cadenzsa commanded a loyalty with both strong voice and gentle heart, which neither the Direwolf nor the Krakken could do.

"We'll talk about that later," she said. "I don't believe that now is the time nor place to discuss such matters. Now is a time for celebration."

"How can we celebrate when-?"

"Robb," she said gently, "We will discuss the matter before the night is up. But it is unhealthy to forget to celebrate life's small victories."

Much to Lady Stark's chagrin, the Ironborn began to dance and make merry. And so the Ironborn that had come with her began to sing, some songs he recognized, but then they began to sing a song Theon did not recognize, and yet every Ironborn on the island seemed to know. Even Cadenzsa knew it, and as she sang along, and when her knights pulled her up to dance with them, Theon slowly realized that this song was one that was written for her.

"_Start wearing purple, wearing purple/  
Start wearing purple for me now-  
For the Iron and the Gold, they are melding, it's coming  
It is just a matter of time/  
So I say!  
Start wearing purple, wearing purple - tra-la-la-la-la!  
Start wearing purple for me now!  
For the Iron Age and Golden Age, they are a-melding, it's coming!  
It's just a matter of time-  
Just watch the ships that are sailing, that are sailing  
Across from the Summer Sea/  
It is our Queen, you will see her, she is coming,  
And a corpse for her you'll be, unless you  
__Start wearing purple, wearing purple - tra-la-la-la-la!  
Start wearing purple, now, you should  
For the Iron Age and Golden Age, they are a-melding, I swear it!  
It's just a matter of time-  
The jasmine flowers that she's wearing in her hair, they are falling/  
And laying stones of white and blue/  
For the Ironborn to march on, to spill blood/  
When the Iron Price gets its due/  
And how I know this, how I know this, I tell you  
When the purple ships come to town/  
There will be coin and cloak and all of them are made of gold  
the Iron Queen will strike you down, unless you-  
__Start wearing purple, wearing purple - tra-la-la-la-la!  
Start wearing purple for me now!  
For the Iron and the Gold, they are a-melding, it's coming!  
It's just a matter of time-  
____And so I tell you that the Queen of Swords, of Iron Swords/  
____There will be nobody left to bow/____  
____Unless you start wearing purple, wearing purple/  
____That is how she will know how!  
____So! You! Must!-  
______Start wearing purple, wearing purple - tra-la-la-la-la!  
______Start wearing purple for me now!  
______For the Iron and the Gold, they are a-melding, it's coming!  
______It's just a matter of time!"______  
_

Theon hadn't realized what gifted song-writers the Ironborn were until then, and when he came up to dance with them, he realized just how merry they could be. It would have been horrifying, he was sure, to those who had feared the Ironborn for so many years, to see them dancing in such a way. Theon had been dragged up to join the dance, too, and he knew that Lady Stark's least favorite thing, as of late, was to see anyone having a good time. She was rather sour at him, of course, for proving her wrong in that his father was a trustworthy ally, and that he was now to be the one to handle all of the Northern King's negotiations. With this in mind, Theon was to leave, soon, to see about reforging the alliance with Stannis Baratheon. Perhaps he would even take his Princess with him, now that she was at his side, to warm his bed at night? Gods, the things he was going to do to her once he got her alone...

And once the feast was cleared a bit, and once everything calmed down, the royalty of the North and Iron Islands retired to Robb's tent, along with Greatjon Umber and Lady Stark, and several other of Robb's generals, and Cadenzsa's Knights.

"I suppose that the three of you are wondering why I'm here," she said, sitting. "Not you, though, Lord Umber, since you haven't a clue as to who I am."

"I've _some _clue, mi'Lady, if you are the Wild Sea Rose, we've heard about. In truth, I thought you were just a passing myth, mi'lady."

"You will kindly address the Princess of the Iron Islands as 'Your Grace,' Lord Umber," announced Ser Tristifer, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "And you should bow in her presence."

"Ser Tristifer, that's quite unnecessary," said Cadenzsa with a grin most royal. "Nobody needs to worship at my feet, yet." Theon bowed his head a little to smile.

"Your Grace, with respect, the Queen has instructed us to ensure that you are treated properly," said Ser Tristifer, who bent his knee to her, and his head.

"If we could get on with all of this pomp and circumstance, perhaps we could get something done about this whole thing?" said Robb's Uncle Blackfish, who looked rather annoyed.

"Of course, my Lord," said Cadenzsa. "I have some rather painful news, I'm afraid," she said. "Theon, I'm afraid that I have news in regard to your sister, Asha." Theon's heart stopped, and a lump in his throat grew. Cadenzsa stood and began to pace. "It's hard to say, you see, but Robb, you must send men North, to Winterfell. We have received news that Asha Greyjoy has taken Winterfell for her own."

"How?!" shouted Robb.

Cadenzsa shrugged. "I don't know. But you should get word soon of her demands, I expect. Word travels fast between the Ironborn. I had hoped that she wouldn't do anything like this but...she attacked Torrhen's Square, and while the men there were distracted, she traveled inland with a hundred men and took the castle. We received a raven at Fair Isle about it, and I came straight here to tell you."

"Why?!" demanded Robb. "What does she want?!"

"I don't know," said Cadenzsa.

"Does she want ransom? What of the boys? What of Bran and Rickon?" Lady Stark's voice was cracking, afraid.

"I do not know, Lady Stark," confessed the Princess, "but I think that she is too wise to want them dead. She knows that they are valuable, and I think that she knows that it is wiser to wait and keep them alive." Cadenzsa must have felt their eyes on her, for she faltered and leaned towards Theon.

"You'd best get up there, Greyjoy!" shouted Lord Umber. "Get up there and spank your sister's arse and tell her to go back home!"

"You would ask me to slay my own sister, Lord Umber?" Theon demanded. _Why would she do this? Is she mad? Or perhaps just angry..._ 'Your other family', she'd called the Starks. Perhaps she was taking her own sweet revenge against Winterfell for keeping him captive all those years?

"The price of attacking the North, especially Winterfell, will be her head. Should you not do it, I will."

"Everyone please, let's be calm about this and be reasonable!" said Cadenzsa, holding her arms up. "She holds the North, but we still have a war to fight." She took Theon's hand. "Theon, my sun and stars, I have been instructed by your father to have _you_ bring Asha back."

"I can't," insisted Theon. "I'm supposed to go and attempt to reforge the alliance with Stannis Baratheon tomorrow."

"We can't just let your sister sit in Winterfell," said Robb.

"So what _can_ we do?" asked Lord Umber. "Sit on our thumbs til something comes up? Winterfell is the heart of the North."

"I think the first step is to figure out _why_ she wanted it," said Cadenzsa, looking to Theon. "And the first step to that is _you_ talking to her."

"We don't have time for that," replied the Ironborn Prince. "I have to ride east tomorrow and meet Stannis Baratheon. We have to get him to join our cause, so Winterfell will have to wait."

"_Why?_" asked Cadenzsa indignantly, throwing her hands up. "What does a Baratheon care of the Northern and Iron Islander independence? If he's anything like his brother, he'll want to rule Seven kingdoms, not Five. Power is like a box of sweets - once you have a taste, you want to eat the whole damn thing, no matter how sick it might make you."

"We'll outnumber the Lannisters two-to-one should we gain the support of Stannis Baratheon. Renly would have been ideal, but now that he's dead..." Robb sighed, and looked to his mother.

Cadenzsa gave a questioning glance. "Was it illness?"

"An assassination," said Lady Stark, who wrung her hands together quite tensely. "I saw it. I was there. His..." her voice shook a little before continuing. "I would tell you more, but I cannot. I just saw a shadow, creep into the tent, quick as the wind, and stab through his heart. And, though it may seem mad, it looked like Stannis Baratheon." Cadenzsa came closer as Lady Stark turned. "It was that Red Woman. I know it seems mad, but I know it was her. She kept on talking about the 'Lord's Chosen.'"

"Red woman?!" Cadenzsa gasped. "Do you mean...a priestess? Of R'hllor?"

Confused looks were exchanged. "Do you know of this woman, Princess?" asked Robb.

"Not of _this_ woman, but perhaps of her sisters," she sighed, suddenly sounding a little afraid. "Lady Stark, what you saw was..." She paced a bit, as if suddenly quite nervous. Theon reached out and took her by the arm; she turned her head to him, and her eyebrows tilted, as if looking for some kind of assurance that things would turn out fine. Theon had rarely seen her afraid, but when he nodded her head to her, she continued. "Lady Stark, did this woman have a flaming heart sigil somewhere on her person?"

Lady Stark's face changed with shock. "Stannis Baratheon changed his personal coat of Arms to a stag in a flaming heart."

"Gods almighty, this is the _last _thing we needed!" bemoaned Cadenzsa.

"Well, stop moaning about it, and fucking tell us!" demanded the Blackfish.

"Hold your tongue at the Princess, Ser, or lose it!" barked Ser Claron, his hand on his axe.

"It's the priestess of R'hllor," said Cadenzsa. "R'hllor is known as the Lord of Light, the 'one true God.' He comes from the city of Asshai, by the Jade Sea. Their Priestesses engulf themselves in flames and read magic in smoke and...bend shadows to their will." Cadenzsa gulped. "It is a dark, evil, and terrible magic. They say that Fire is the purest way to die, and demand that their enemies be burned alive as sacrifices to their Red God. The Dothraki say that the people of Asshai are shadow-demons themselves." She went and sat, as if suddenly overwhelmed. "My mother always told me to stay away from them. Their God is no God, she said, but a Demon. Their followers are cultists that say that they are the Chosen ones to wipe out and purge the world of all non-believers of the Red God, and that all other Gods are demons and must be smited from this world."

"That's stupid," said Theon, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Stupid and dangerous," replied Cadenzsa, making sure to emphasize the word 'dangerous.' She sighed. "There's a Red Temple in Braavos. I snuck in once, when my mother wasn't looking...it was awful, like something out of a waking nightmare. Their magic, though, is real, and that's the worst part. It's granted to them by their Demon-God. Lady Stark, what you saw was most-likely some shadow-spawn of the Red Woman." She sighed and held her head. "'For the Night is long and full of Terror,'" she said. "That's what they say. 'Lord of Light, guide us.' They speak of a sword called Lightbringer, forged for a hundred days and a hundred nights by Azor Ahai, the Chosen Hero to bring light to the world, one that was tempered in the living soul and human heart of his own wife. Tell me, what kind of religion preaches of a hero that slays his own wife? The kind that worships a Demon, that's what!"

"So, wait," said Robb, "how can we stop it?"

"You can't stop a God," replied Cadenzsa. "Or a demon. They have no bodies, no blood, and cannot be killed."

"But priestesses can be," said Theon.

"I don't want you going there," said his Princess, her tone stern. "I don't want you negotiating with that demon around. Especially when your sister holds Winterfell under the Greyjoy name."

"We must repair the bonds between House Baratheon and Stark," said Robb, sitting and looking at his maps. "This war is more than just about revenge, now." _It's true,_ thought Theon. _This is about justice. The Lannisters must be brought to justice._ "My father is dead. And I will not stop until I kill them all. Stannis must be brought to our cause. He is the King, by right, since Robert Baratheon has no sons."

Greatjon Umber snorted. "Robert Baratheon has sons and daughters all over the Seven Kingdoms-"

"-_Five_ Kingdoms," said Theon.

"If Robert Baratheon has bastards," began Cadenzsa, "doesn't that mean that _they_ have a claim to the Iron Throne? Why don't we just find one of them and say that they're the rightful King?"

"That's not how it works," chided Theon to his naive little wife. "No bastard has a real claim to lands or titles."

"Unless a King decrees him a Trueborn," said Robb quietly. "Unless a King legitimizes him, by royal decree." And Robb slowly stood, his eyes glancing around at the maps of the Realm. "A bastard may inherit if there are no other trueborn children." The young wolf looked up. "I, as the King, could proclaim any one of Robert Baratheon's bastards as the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms. But how do we find Robert Baratheon's bastards?"

"Do you truly mean to find one of Robert Baratheon's bastards and make him a legitimate heir to the Five Kingdoms?" gasped Lady Stark.

"If blood is all it really takes to make a claim to a Throne in Westeros, then why not? One cannot change their bloodlines," asked Cadenzsa, thumbing one of her braids.

"That may be fine for you, in Essos, but in Westeros, we are civilized," snapped Lady Stark suddenly.

"Oh yes, I agree. You know, one can really tell a culture's values by how they wed. Deciding the marital fates of those that hadn't ever met, wedding ancient old Lords to frightened little maids, the 'First Night' custom, the Westerosi 'bedding ceremony'...very, _very_ civilized, indeed" japed Cadenzsa.

"Ladies, please, if we war amongst each other, then what chance to we have against the Lannisters?" asked Robb, who then came between his mother and Theon's wife. Theon came and put his arm around Cadenzsa and kissed her forehead. She was too tall for him to do it without reaching a little.

"If one of Robert Baratheon's bastards are proclaimed, what good will that _really_ do? A lowborn bastard has no family, no army, no money. Stannis Baratheon is the better choice." Robb looked down, then to his mother, then nodded lowly and shrugged his shoulders.

"What of Winterfell?" asked the young wolf.

"I'll send a raven to her tonight, asking why she did what she did." Theon knew why she did what she did, though. Women were irrational creatures, and Asha had always been blessed with a terrible temper, much like the rest of the Greyjoys of Pyke. "If worse comes to worst, I'll go," said Theon, "But I think it unwise to proceed without something further mapped out. It is wiser to have a plan. And, right now, Stannis Baratheon is the plan." He felt Cadenzsa's eyes on him. Were she no Princess, she would have given him quite the earful. But Westeros had gotten to her, now, and his little foreign beauty had become something of a Lady, here. They had gowned her and jeweled her, and it seemed to have sunk into her skin, instead of the boiled leather trousers and Dancing gloves of fine suede. She might have even spat in his face if she hadn't been tamed not to. He wasn't sure how much he liked it. She leaned against him, defeated, seeming tired suddenly. "Let's all get some rest. We'll all feel more clear-headed in the morning. Come, my Princess." And Cadenzsa sighed and leaned into him as they walked together. Theon heard Robb and his mother and the Umbers talk, still, but he eventually heard their heavy footsteps follow out behind.

Cadenzsa held her head a little, and then brushed her long curls back. On her brow, Theon saw her crown, a thin circlet of iron with a single, impeccable, round black diamond in the center. She wore a crown well, he thought, but when she was queen she would get a much better crown. He then remembered that he still had her crown, that golden crown of starfish and sandcoins and diamonds. He had it in his sailor bag, where nobody would see it or try to steal it. He still had that Phial, too, which he kept in his pocket. He hadn't used any, yet.

They reached Theon's tent, and he opened the flap for her. It wasn't fit for the two of them, necessarily, but it would do for tonight. The bed was large enough, and had fresh linens just the same. Theon liked being wealthy, and fresh linens were afforded well for the Greyjoys now. She immediately went and laid down, kicking off her pretty black shoes and sighing. She turned over as Theon smirked to himself, removing his gloves and Wex coming in to remove his armor.

"Long journey, my Princess?" he japed. He turned to Wex. "Once you're done with me, see to it that the Princess's attendants are taken well care of before you go to sleep." The boy nodded silently and lifted Theon's chainmail over his head. The roughspun coats, the blue boiled linens...Theon had forgotten how much he liked the clothes of the Ironborn. He was stripped down to his tunic and breeches when he bent to take off his boots. He then poured some water from a pitcher and soaked a rag, washing off the back of his neck. "Are you alive, sweetling?"

Cadenzsa grumbled wordlessly, pulling a pillow over her head. "Just tired. And a priestess of R'hllor..."

"Think nothing of it. She's probably just a woman."

Theon smiled and gave a laugh as he stripped his tunic off and tossed it over a nearby chair's back. He came and crawled next to her, laid down behind her. He kissed the back of her head, inhaling the wonderful scent of jasmine from her hair. His hands ran over her firm curves, her strong arms. He kissed her cheek and nipped at her earlobe, and then grinded his hips up against her taut arse.

"I must tell you, sweet love," he whispered in her ear, his hand wandering over her throat, and reaching down into her gown to cup her breast. "I'm still a little drunk. It's going to take me awhile, tonight." And when he felt her firm flesh, and frowned. He gave her tit another gentle squeeze; it felt different, swollen, full. "Are your tits getting bigger?"

Cadenzsa then smiled, a reserved, secret kind of smile; it was the kind of smile that you smiled when somebody was about to discover a prank you had just pulled on them, and you were trying not to laugh and give yourself away. "I don't know. You tell me." And she cupped her hand over his and squeezed it into her full breasts.

"I've got to have you now, or I'm going to die..." he moaned, and sank his teeth into the flesh of her neck. She giggled shyly and turned over to face him, meeting his lips with hers. He loved her lips, and he loved her tongue, especially when it was soaked with wine. He brought her closer and peeled away her gown, and let his hands wander over the curves of her hips and her small belly.

_Wait. Small belly? Not flat belly?_ Theon pulled away and looked down at his half-naked wife. Her normally softly-defined muscles seemed...softer.

"Are you getting fat?" he asked, confused.

Cadenzsa guffawed. "I'm pregnant, you idiot." Theon's heart stopped in his throat. He waited for her to break into a laugh, to tell him it was all a silly jape. But her eyes were stone-cold serious. A smile began to form on Theon's lips.

"Truly?" he heard himself say.

She smiled, and then nodded. "I haven't bled since our wedding night, which was three months ago. This will make it four." Their fingers laced together. "This was another reason I wanted to come here to talk to you. I didn't want to just write 'Dear Theon, I'm pregnant, signed, Cadenzsa.'"

A thousand thoughts began racing through Theon's head all at once. He sat up on the bed and looked away, not really focusing on anything, but just looking. He then laughed a short breath in disbelief. "I can't believe it," he said. "It's really happening. My life is really happening." He didn't mean to say that last part out loud, but he did. And then he turned around to see his Cadenzsa, _his_ beautiful Cadenzsa, sitting up on her elbows and smiling. "You..." He said. "_You.._."

"Yes, 'I, I,'" she japed playfully with a pinch on his arm. "Who else would be carrying your child?"

_I don't want to think about that..._ "Only you, sweetling. Only you." And he kissed her. She smiled and laughed. "And now you carry the heir to Pyke and the Kingdom of the Iron Islands. You have a little Prince inside you."

A beat. "Or Prin_cess,__" _she said.

_She wants a girl, _he thought, _even though the Mirror said it would be a boy. Well,_ he thought, _let her have her fantasies._ "Or Princess," he said. "She'll be pretty, like you."

"And you'll love her just the same, even if she is a girl? And you'll raise her to be the heir to the Iron Islands, even if she is a girl?"

Theon blinked. "What, now?"

"No matter how many children we have, _this_ is our Firstborn. And the Firstborn should be the heir. Girl or boy."

"That's not how it works."

"Why?!" Theon felt Cadenzsa's anger flare. "You think men are better than women? Name a man better at the sword than I! Name a man braver than I! I am a woman and I am _twice_ the warrior of any man you have! And I'm growing a _person_ inside of me! I'm growing teeth and toes and lungs right now as we speak!"

"Alright, alright!" soothed Theon, his hand over her small belly. "Hush, sweetling, we don't want you getting too worked up in your condition."

"'Condition?' '_Condition_?!'" she screeched. "You planted that seed! And you'll be happy with whatever I give you!"

"Cadenzsa, please!" He held onto her hands. Her eyes were wild, angry, faintly arousing. But she was to be his queen, and though the Mirror said they would have a boy, Cadenzsa seemed to have her heart set on a girl. It didn't matter, of course, what she wanted. They were having a boy; Theon felt it. But if her heart would rest easier this way, he'd say what he needed to say. He wrapped his arms tight around her and kissed her neck. "If it means that much to you, our Firstborn will be the heir. Alright?"

"You swear?" he heard her whisper.

"I swear," he lied.

"Would you put it in writing? Make it a royal decree when you are king?"

_Dangerous_, he thought, _very dangerous_. But he wouldn't be king for at least a few years. And they could address it again later. But Cadenzsa wouldn't ever let him live it down were he not to do it. Cadenzsa was a dangerous woman, a formidable woman. Perhaps if their daughter were something like her, it wouldn't be so bad. "If it means that much to you," he said, "we'll cross that bridge when it comes. But we have to win a war first."

"I'm going with you," she then announced as she pulled away. "I'm coming with you to speak with Stannis Baratheon. I need to speak to this woman myself. I need to see her."

"Does she have magic like your mother?"

Cadenzsa glanced away for a moment, then shook her head. "The Dothraki fear the Red Priests and Priestesses. I don't know if my magic can surpass hers. But I need to see what it is."

"I don't like the thought of you riding," he said.

"Dothraki women have been giving birth since long before _our_ time, and they ride every day up until the day of birth when they're fat with child. It can't be _that_ dangerous."

"Are you Dothraki or Bravosi? Pick one."

"I can be both," insisted Cadenzsa. Theon sighed through his nose. There was no use arguing with her, and he couldn't think of any safer place for her than by his side. She was, indeed, a formidable and capable warrior, the most-terrifying of which he might have ever seen, and yet he'd only seen her fight once. That day in the Wolfswood she was like a wild animal, ferocious and precise, quick as a snake. She _could_ be both, if she wanted to be, he supposed. He ran his fingers through her long black hair.

"I do all the talking," he began, "and I say when you come with me or stay in the tent." She frowned, rather annoyed, but she nodded in understanding. "It's because I care for you, sweet love. I swear it."

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry about my bad temper."

"It's part of what I like about you. You don't take shit from anybody."

"I'm a Greyjoy," she said with a rather sweet grin. "Greyjoys don't take shit from anybody." Theon laughed, and stood, and pulled her up to stand with him. He knelt down and pulled her pretty silk dress down over her hips, so it fell at her naked feet. He stood up and kissed her full lips, and felt her body pressing hard against his. He kissed his way down her neck, the space between her full breasts, down over her belly and lower still to eat away at the curly black hair at her cunt, all briney and earthy and irresistible. "Oh, Theon," he heard her sigh. He smiled between her legs, and squeezed her tight ass, feeling her lovely black hair tickle at is knuckles.

"I've missed you so much," he said, quickly standing and sweeping her into his arms. She squealed and laughed when he did, and she wrapped her long legs around his waist when he tossed her on her back. "Gods, I'm going to fuck you raw..." Cadenzsa sat up and put her hands on his stomach.

"Wait," she whispered seductively. And she kissed down his chest, and ran her tongue down past his naval, and down further to the laces on his breeches. She then twined her fingers with his and began unlacing the ties with her tongue and teeth.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" gasped Theon in elated disbelief, his cock throbbing at the thought of her perfect lips.

"With his Grace's permission?" she purred, batting her eyes.

"Granted!"

She curled her tongue and brought his throbbing hard cock into her mouth, just as sweet as her cunt, and sucked hard. He held tight onto her hands and threw his head back with a deep and long moan. It felt so good that, were she not cleverly holding onto his hands, he might have taken her head and thrusted into it. She was too smart, almost, but Theon didn't mind it so much. A queen should be smart. A queen should be clever and strong. A queen should suck her king's cock with the kind of vigor that she was doing it with now. He came in a great rush much more quickly than he had anticipated to, but she swallowed nonetheless, and was well enough with the whole thing. He collapsed next to her on the bed.

"Give me but a moment, my love," he said, breathless, "and I shall return the favor." Cadenzsa laughed and ran her fingers through his thick hair. He did, of course, because he was a man of his word, but not after a long moment of staring at her gorgeous face. Then, he took one of the pillows off their bed and dropped it on the floor to rest his knees on. He spread her perfect legs wide and sucked and licked and tasted her delicious cunt for as long as it took until his face felt numb. He fondled and pleasured her with his fingers after that, and then they fucked until he felt the dawn beginning to rise on the skin on his back. Both of them were slick with sweat, and cum, and the best part about all of it was that the Starks were nearby, and they could hear them, and there was nothing they could do about it. She screamed his name over and over again, '_Theon! Theon! Theon_!' They could be as loud as they wanted, for Cadenzsa was his wife, and he was her husband, and he could take her whenever he wanted. Or she wanted. Her appetite seemed just as great as his on many occasions.

After a short two hours of sleep(it couldn't have been more than that), Cadenzsa's envoy was packed up with Theon's, making a rather sizable bunch of one hundred men. Her Knights were among them, as well as Cadenzsa's handmaidens (when Theon asked if she _had_ to bring them, she had said 'Well, _somebody_ has to dress me') and the crew from the Krakken's Kiss, one of the fastest ships in the Iron Fleet. It was fitting for her, for her kisses were most memorable indeed, and she was a Krakken, now, too.

"Has Stannis even _agreed_to meet with you after everything?" asked Cadenzsa as they rode over the early morning light, far east toward Strom's End.

"He has agreed to meet with us at Grassy Vale, the seat of House Meadows. It sits on the border of the Stormlands," answered Theon.

"What are you going to tell them? Will you grovel at his feet if you have to?"

Theon shrugged his shoulders, hearing the soft grind of the chainmail under his clothes. "I don't think I'll have to grovel. We need Stannis' support for our independence. In exchange for marching on King's Landing with him, and my father's ships, he acknowledges our independence. It's a fair exchange."

"What if he doesn't want to?" she asked. "I hear that Stannis Baratheon is one of the most stubborn men in all of creation."

"He is," answered Theon, who then reached into his pocket and held up the little golden phial that Cadenzsa had given to him, the one that held a power greater than any he had ever known. "Which is why I am going to use this."

* * *

Phew! That one was a doozie!

I wrote a song(kinda), and now Asha's sieged Winterfell. Who knows what will happen next? I DO! MWAHAHAHA!

Speaking of siegeing Winterfell? I want to clarify a few things:

The thing about fate is that you can't escape it. The Gods weave fates the way they do, because somebody has to play a part. Just because a person decides to change their fate, doesn't mean that this particular act in the play must go undone. There must be an understudy. Winterfell is destined to be doomed, and that's the scary/wonderful thing about tragedies: the Hero dies, but the story lives on forever. Speaking of Heroes, will I be killing off people? Yes. Yes I will. Because it HAS to happen. Remember, kids, the ONLY difference between my world and the George R.R. Martin-verse is that CADENZSA FOREL EXISTS. The Gods are still unjust, and the Lords are still dicks. But Cadenzsa's mirrors and her new magic is going to see that just because she changes the fate of one, doesn't mean that it will all be alright. She's basically disturbing the WHOLE UNIVERSE, and that cannot be good. Because she erases one death, another will still be in its place. Who will I kill? I DON'T KNOW YET. Wait...yes I do. :3

Oh, and to clarify a few things from the previous chapter: Cadenzsa does NOT follow the Seven, Aeron just assumed she did because she didn't say that she DIDN'T follow the Seven, and she's also Essosi and he assumes her to be one of the descendants of the Andals. Cadenzsa doesn't actually hold ANY Gods, really. She believes in the God of Death and, somewhat, of the Gods of her mother's Dothraki heritage. But she's not really religious. She's also just too polite to say "Hey, you're wrong, I don't believe in the Seven, I'm an Athiest" to her new family, which she's really uneasy with to begin with. But, if you were all curious, she was baptized at the Temple of the Moonsingers in Braavos, which is the religion that her family has historically followed. But more on that later.

Stay tuned! It gets REALLY FUCKED UP FROM HERE ON OUT! :D

Also, thank you SO MUCH for your continued reading and support! It really does mean a lot to me! R&R!


	12. Chapter 12

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything. Trying to merge the books and the HBO adaptation. AU-ish.

**Summary:**

Braavos is an ancient and beautiful city of ships, wealth, and purple hulls. The world-renowned Courtesans of Braavos have their own barges and servants to attend them. With The Veiled Lady, the most-mysterious of these Courtesans, the First Sword of Braavos, Syrio Forel, had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.

AU. Theon/OC. Rated M for later chapters of sexytimes. Possible Throbb. (me gusta face)

* * *

**Cadenzsa**

* * *

Gods, being pregnant was shit. In the short time that month three had become month four, she immediately turned her head from liking the feeling of having a little Princess inside of her to loathing the blasted parasite entirely. Not only did she feel waves of hot and cold, _all the time_, but she felt sick every time she smelled anything ever. _Ever_! And you can't_ not_ smell something when you breathe... Do you know how often you smell things, especially when you're travelling with fifty-something Ironmen, all in briny, salty armor and their horses that shit all over the roads? Well, do you?

Worse and worse, she was beginning to resent the baby. She felt tired and sick, and her normal range of daily activities were severely crippled by the feeling of needing to vomit every other time she moved. She couldn't be fast anymore, or jump anymore, no more swimming or Dancing...it was worse than being crippled in Winterfell with that bum ankle, far worse indeed. Cadenzsa was, simply, trapped in her own body, with her unborn child as the keeper. And she was an odd combination of constantly starving and nauseous, from the moment she awakened, until the moment she decided to sleep... At least in Winterfell she could eat something and keep it down. Not that she'd let anyone know, however. She would never let anyone see that she was suffering, and that's why she kept her sword still at her side, hanging at her gowned hip.

The Ironborn looked to her as a symbol, a beacon of light, an embodiment of the rock to hold onto in the storm. She was the Rock Wife to the Iron Islands as their Princess. Her Knights rode next to and behind, looking around, the crew of the Krakken's Kiss adored her wholly. Theon's men of the Leviathan adored her, as did the rest of her new subjects. All who saw her face, loved her, and that was her curse, the fear that had come true, for she had prayed(perhaps not long or hard enough) that she would never be the same as her mother with that curse. Oh, there was a time, of course, where she had wished for it, to be loved and beautiful like her mother, but in her recent years, her childhood fantasy of what that might be like was shattered.

Cadenzsa was going to do something with her gifts, not just sit around and be a glorified whore of the highest allocation. She was blessed with beauty, a lovely singing voice, and more wealth than she could spend in three lifetimes. Cadenzsa _should_ make use of her gifts, as it was surely the right thing to do; her father had taught her that.

But _Gods_, was it hard to think of such things when she was feeling the way she felt. The baby couldn't even be thought of as a person for her at that point, just some horrific parasite that fed off of her energy, the food she ate, the air she breathed...she didn't even feel human. How did the Westerosi Ladies do it so happily? This was a living nightmare, sculpted with stones of anguish and cemented together with mortar made of nausea and broken dreams. And every time Theon and she were alone together, all she wanted to do was fuck him. She didn't understand it, but every time she saw him take off his tunic or brush his dark hair back away from his eyes, her baby-crazy cunt just told her to pounce, which she did, which he loved, and she hated. She wondered if women had this much trouble often with pregnancies, and wondered if she were alone in her struggles.

But, no, she would be strong! She wouldn't say anything about it. She had to be their Princess, and then their Queen, a servant to the Iron Islands to guard the hope of her people, the weak, mighty, rich, poor-

_Shit, somebody's eating cheese right now...!_

She lurched a little, then quickly swallowed the bile her baby had threatened to spew all over the back of Horse's neck. The Princess quickly reached for her waterskin and downed as much water as she could without making it look very obvious that she was suffering. She would never say this, ever, but it was too early to be up and about. She just wanted to go back to bed... It could have been the bed in hers and Theon's tent, or her bed in their suite in the Iron Islands. She most wanted her bed back in her manse, on the Isle of Flowers, with jasmine and peonies at the window, the beehives buzzing softly to make all the flowers grow. In her nauseous haze, she began to wonder what it would be like if men had to be the ones to bear the children. She began to laugh to herself at the thought of Theon being sick like this, whining and mewling like a baby goat...

"What are you laughing at over there, sweet-heart?"

"Hm?" Theon had caught her laughing, and had slowed Smiler just enough so he could ride next to her and Horse. Their manes shone in the dappled light of the forest they had been riding through. The Ironborn did not like roads very much, no, they preferred very much the smaller roads, the less-travelled ones...the ones that require stealth. "Oh, nothing, I was just thinking of something that was very amusing..." She began to laugh again, masking the psychotic hatred for her condition, then laughing again at the thought of a baby coming out of the tiny hole in Theon's cock.

"Had I known you being with child would make you this jovial, I'd have done it sooner."

Cadenzsa laughed and thought to herself: _Your death will be slow and agonizing_... "Our heir rides inside of me, I _should_ be happy," is what she said when what she really meant was: _I am going to strangle you with my bare hands._

"With you being this happy, I'll have to put another one in you the second that one pops out." Their company crested the top of a hill, where the forrest stopped for a bit, and it looked high over the meadowlands, so green and fresh and abundant.

_I am going to shit in your mouth_... is what she was thinking when she said "Will we be at Grassfield Keep soon?"

"By nightfall, at the latest." He took out his Myrish eye and extended it. "If you look due east, you'll be able to see." He handed her the eye and she looked through it. It was a fine, fertile-looking castle with lots of soft-looking grass that she just wanted to curl up in.

"What fertile land..." she said, wondering if she shouldn't have just tried to find a husband out here. But, then again, there was no ocean and she'd probably get sick of all of the fertile land and green meadows, eventually. "We'll stay there in the castle?"

"House Meadows is quite generous. Most of the Southern seem to be. It's an easy, soft place." This was said with a smile on his lips, a dismissive smile. His arrogance would he his downfall, surely.

"Have you thought about what you're going to say to Stannis Baratheon when you see him? Will you meet him over supper?"

"He'll have a council meeting where he'll see me, surely." And then he shrugged his broad shoulders, clad with the Krakken's neckplate, all over sea-washed linens and black chainmail beneath. "As for what I'll say..."

"Theon, if you're going to use that potion, you must be extremely specific. _Extremely _specific, and you cannot say anything without purpose." She then realized that giving him the Philter of the Golden tongue might have been a fatal mistake. "Give it here, I'll use it."

"I think not-"

"I know how to use it properly," insisted the Princess. "You haven't had the proper training as I have."

"It's just talking, Cadenzsa. I could always talk to you, and you can be one of the hardest people to talk to in the world."

That one made her pause. "How am I difficult to talk to?"

Theon laughed. "You haven't a clue as to what you are, have you?" She frowned. "You may have been born Bravosi, but you have, in the time I have known you, shown a level of command equal to any royal in the world. With those piercing eyes of yours, you make a grown man's heart stop in his throat, and it's not just because of your beauty."

_Just like my mother_, thought Cadenzsa, full of sorrow. She swallowed.

"The point is, not many men can stand the thought of a woman being as mighty as you are. It makes their cocks go limp. They'll dismiss any woman as weak, but when that is challenged, it's difficult. You've taught me that. And if I can talk to you so easily, I shouldn't fear Stannis Baratheon."

"It's not that you should fear _him_, Theon, it's that you should fear saying the wrong thing. If you say the wrong thing, he must obey it anyway. You must say, _exactly_, how he will ally himself with the Iron Islanders and Northerners against the Lannisters. But you can't command it of him. You have to word everything in such a way to make him think that it was his idea."

He scoffed a bit through his nose. "It can't be _that_ difficult."

"It is!" insisted Cadenzsa in a hushed whisper. "All the more reason I should be the one to do so. Gods, Theon, at very least let's work out a system of eye-blinks to communicate to each other silently, lest I fall under the spell, too."

Theon shot her a raised eyebrow and a set of nasty eyes. "_You_ are staying in the room while negotiations are going on."

"Hells be damned, I am! I am a Princess Iron Islands and a representative of them at that. _And_ I represent the Iron Bank of Braavos, and I must be there in my Uncle's stead when negotiations must take place. _And_ I need to see that damned Red Woman."

"And how will it look to the future King of the Five Kingdoms if I have my pretty wife at my side when we're trying to carve out the history of Westeros at that table, like we're at a damned summer feast?"

The Dancing Master's gloved hand snapped to the iron collar of Theon's armor, and pulled him towards her, making Smiler whinny in shock. She glared into his blue-gray eyes and hissed through clenched teeth: "I will never be your '_pretty wife.'_" She lurched a little, losing all ferocity and earning a quirked eyebrow from Theon. "Excuse me," she said, and threw his collar back into his possession. She snapped the reins on Horse and took off into the depths of the forest, Horse running through the trees like a quick black fox. She might have noticed the Ironborn looking perplexed, had her head not been spinning.

When she reached enough of a clearing by a stone wall, crumbling and ancient, she jumped off Horse and tumbled down, and flipped up so she could vomit in a nearby bush with some mount of privacy. It came all in a rush, and though she gagged, she felt immediately better after doing it.

"Your Grace!" she heard a distant voice. "Your Grace!" It was Ser Claron's voice. She heard him lumbering off of his horse. She straightened her gown and wiped her lips. His red-bearded face appeared around a tree. "Are you well, your Grace."

She sighed and leaned against the tree. "Never better," she said. She glanced to a waterskin at his side. "Is that water or wine?"

"Wine, your Grace," he said, offering it to her in his massive hands.

"Gods be praised." And she squeezed the wine into her mouth, gargled it in her throat and swished it around her cheeks, before spitting it to the side.

"Did you not like the wine, Princess?" asked Ser Claron, confused.

"It was fine, thank you. Perhaps a little young for my tastes. But I am partial to a more aged, more tannic wine." She sighed through her nose. "I wonder how well a vineyard would fare on the Iron Islands...?"

"Not much grows on the Islands, your Grace. That's why we turned to raiding."

"Well, has anyone ever _tried _a vineyard on the Iron Islands?" Ser Claron shook his massive head. "Some grapes grow better in a rockier terrain," she said. "I shall have to look into that..." She swallowed a burp that threatened to pass her lips. "Remind me to do so, will you, at some point when we go home?"

"I will, your Grace."

She sighed. "Excellent." She heard more horses come towards the woods, the sounds of their hooves bouncing off the trees. It was probably Ser Tristifer and a few other Ironborn. She didn't hear Theon's horse, but she did, just then, hear footsteps in the woods, of three young men. Or perhaps children? She put her hand on Ser Claron's massive shoulder. "Hush. Someone's coming." Ser Claron drew his mighty battleaxe and gripped its handle. Cadenzsa put her hand on Cadenzsa's handle, now a small Greyjoy krakken branded into it's metal.

"You could have ended the war!" said a distant voice, the voice of a young man, bouncing off the trees and into the Princess's ears.

"Shut up."

"Three names of _anyone_? Anyone in the whole world? Here's a name for you: Tywin Lannister. Or Cersei Lannister. And Joffrey Baratheon? There, _that's_ three!"

"I said 'shut up!'"

Cadenzsa's heart stopped. That voice...that feisty voice.

"Arya..." She walked around Ser Claron, who followed at her behind. "Arya?" she called into the woods. "Arya Stark?" The footsteps stopped, and she heard three(very distinct) footsteps scuffling about, and then hiding. She must be travelling with others that had escaped King's Landing. What a smart girl. "It's Cadenzsa." She heard her little underfoot-steps grow soft, and she almost smiled purely at the thought that Arya had been keeping up with her Dancing Lessons.

_Perhaps Papa is with them_..._!_ Her heart skipped a beat. She ran to where she had heard and looked over the ledge where she forest broke into a lower level. She heard labored breathing. Looking down, she saw three young faces looking up at her. One of them had wide grey eyes and short brown hair.

"Arya?"

"Lady Forel!" She quickly scampered up the rocks and into her arms, where they both laughed. "I can't believe its you!"

"I can't believe it's _you_!" She bent at her knee and held Arya's face in her hands. "My, but you've become so beautiful..." Cadenzsa looked at her with her _Maegi_ eyes. "You've been practicing your Dancing, haven't you?"

"You lost your accent, Lady Forel?"

She laughed and nodded. "I have! How do I sound?"

"I miss your accent."

"Princess?" Cadenzsa looked up to see a rather confused-looking looking Knight at her side.

"Forgive me!" She stood. "Ser Claron, this is Arya Stark, of Winterfell, the Northern King's own sister... Arya, this is Ser Claron of the House Volmark."

"Ser," she greeted.

Cadenzsa brushed a clot of dirt from Arya's hair. "Gods, Arya, what are you doing out here?"

"I escaped from King's Landing. I'm heading to where Robb is, to warn him that Tywin Lannister is on the move."

"We've just come from there. He's at Oxcross, now, and..." She glanced then at her travelling companions. One was some fat little boy that shouldn't have been so poor for how fat he was. The other, a handsome young Prince of a boy, with black hair and a regal air of a conqueror within. With her _Maegi_ eyes, she saw the boy's soul with a Golden Stag's antlers on his head, like a crown. "And who is this handsome Prince you travel with?"

Arya frowned. "They're my friends. That's Hot Pie, and that one's Gendry."

"'Hot Pie!'" laughed Cadenzsa. "Charming... And Gendry...?"

The boy looked between Arya and the large Knight at Cadenzsa's side. "Her Grace has spoken to you, _boy_," shot Ser Claron.

He shot to attention. "Gendry Waters, m'la-er-your Grace?"

Arya tugged at Cadenzsa's sleeve. "You're a Queen, now?"

She shook her head. "Princess," she said. "In the Iron Islands, you address a Princess as 'your Grace.' A King or Queen is 'your Majesty.'"

"Why?"

Cadenzsa laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "Theon's mother decided it. And she's the Queen, there..."

"No, I mean why are you talking about the Iron Islands like that?"

She didn't expect it to be so awkward, but it felt like some kind of odd confession. She just said it as clearly and as concisely as she could. "I married Theon. Robb let Theon go home and I met him there. We got married, and now I'm their Princess, and now the Iron Islanders are fighting a war for independence alongside Robb's Northmen for theirs."

Her face twisted in confusion. "Theon? As in..._our_ Theon?"

Cadenzsa heard the many thoughts in Arya's head. She cupped her white cheek and smiled. "I think he's his _own_ Theon, now, sweet girl."

"I thought he was our Ward til his father died."

She shook her head. "Things change." She took Arya's hand, already thick with callouses. "Come, you and your friends will join us. We're marching East to Grassfield Keep, the seat of House Meadows. We'll be there by sundown, and you'll come back with us when we go meet Robb."

She heard thoughts of relief, but guarded in doing so. "All of us?"

Cadenzsa searched Arya's eyes, seeing into her heart. "All of you." And with a smile she turned to her Knight and said "We can use a few more pairs of hands, can we not, Ser Claron?"

"More like a few more mouths to feed..." grumbled her giant Knight.

"They will find a way to earn their keep, I'm sure, but young Arya is a Lady of the North, so we should treat her with respect, should we not?"

"If it pleases her Grace..." said Ser Claron begrudgingly.

"It _greatly_ pleases her Grace."

Just then, Ser Tristifer came riding up, a frantic look in his eye. "Princess!" he shouted, riding to her side with Arya, Gendry, and Hot Pie in tow.

"Ah, Ser Tristifer. Excellent," she said.

"Are you well, your Grace? The company has stopped. The Prince sent me to see if you and Ser Claron were in need..."

"Nice to know that Theon did that..." She then heard Ser Tristifer's thoughts, his aching heart, thinking of how if Cadenzsa were his, he would treat her better, somehow. "Ser Tristifer, we have stumbled upon a great bound of fortune. May I present Lady Arya of House Stark of Winterfell, with Gendry Waters and 'Hot Pie.'"

"Lady Stark? A relative of the King in the North?"

"His own sister, thought to be a captive of the Lannisters. This brave little wolf-cub escaped her captors, it would seem. She travelled all the way from King's Landing. Isn't that amazing?"

There was a beat. "'Hot Pie?'" repeated Ser Tristifer.

"Apparently," she said with a shrugging smile. Ser Tristifer dismounted his horse and came towards her.

"Her Grace looks rather pale," he said, his hand barely lifting, as if he urged to reach and touch her cheek, but he dare not do it, for he was a Knight, and not her equal. His fingers twitched in the leather of his gloves. His eyes, she thought, so large and full of wonder, so full of love for a woman whom he had no choice but to love, because of that damn curse.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said. _Perhaps I should touch his hand, as a gesture._ She then cupped her hand beneath his, and patted the top of it with her other. She heard his thoughts, his heart beating in his pale, handsome throat: _"Oh were that glove not there..." _he thought. Poor man. "Ser Tristifer, perhaps Gendry can ride with you, while Hot Pie with Ser Claron?"

"And break Swimmer's back?" Ser Claron guffawed. "Let the boy walk," he said. "He could use the exercise."

Cadenzsa rolled her eyes. "Just until we get back to the company. Then let them walk." They walked to their horses, Cadenzsa holding Arya's hand tight. "How long have you been travelling? And what happened to that pretty hair of yours?"

"It's safer to travel as a boy," said Arya. The Princess laughed.

"Robb and Lady Stark will be thrilled to see you! Just look how much you've grown since I last saw you... How did you escape?"

Arya gulped. "It was...the day they took my father's head. I went along with the caravan to the Wall. And then-" Cadenzsa saw Arya's eyes welling. "

"It's alright," she said. "We can talk about it, later." A lump grew in her belly. "My father isn't with you, is he?" She picked Arya up and put her on Horse's back. Her face fell. "Did you see him escape?"

"Ser Meryn Trant..." she said. Cadenzsa heard the pain in her voice. She saw the sacking of the Stark's tower in Arya's eyes. "He killed him. While I ran. I'm so sorry, Lady Forel, he did it to save me-"

"Did you see it?" she pressed. "Did you _see_ him die?" Arya shook her head. "So he could have escaped. He could still be alive. Of course he could, he was the First Sword of Braavos. No Knight could take him down..." She began to laugh. "Well, we'll just have to get him out of King's Landing when we march on the South, won't we?" The Princess laughed again, not noticing that Ser Tristifer was bending to boost her onto Horse's back. She mounted with ease, not noticing. "Come, my Knights, we shall return to the Company."

And so they rode back, seeing Theon, who looked very much annoyed and shocked all at once. "Is that-?"

"Theon!" Arya waved, happy to see a familiar face.

"Fortune smiles upon us!" said Cadenzsa, their three horses joining the Company. "Thank the gods for this demon-parasite inside of me making me sick."

Theon frowned. "You're sick?"

"We'll talk over it later. But first, someone needs to send a raven to Robb telling him of this."

"We can't risk that," said Theon. "Someone might intercept it. The Lannisters have told us that the _both_ Arya and Sansa are captive. If word gets out..."

"Won't that be a good thing, if people realize that the Lannisters are liars?" asked Arya, causing Cadenzsa to laugh.

"You stay with us, little Lady. The Ironborn will keep you safe."

"But I have to warn Robb!"

"Of what?"

"Tywin Lannister's movements!"

"Alright, alright, let's calm down..."

"Your Grace," said Ser Claron, Hot Pie holding onto his massive shoulders from behind. "The day is fading and the men are getting restless. We should move on."

A beat. "Ser Claron, what is that on the back of your horse?"

"Hot Pie, your Grace."

"He's my friend, Theon," said Arya. "And so is Gendry."

"Hello, your Grace," said the handsome black-haired boy, quirking over Ser Tristifer's shoulder.

Theon quirked a brow. "Well, get them off your horses and give them some axes, or something. We travel light. We can't afford to have any dead weight on this venture."

"I'm a blacksmith, your Grace, if it pleases," said Gendry.

Theon's dark brow raised. "And?" he asked, rather annoyed.

"And I'm not dead weight if I can work, your Grace."

"You're dead weight on my horse," said Ser Tristifer, now rather short. "Now get off." Gendry leaped off with ease, while Hot Pie fell off of Swimmer's back, making the poor thing whinny with discomfort. He fell in a thump, making the Ironborn laugh heartily. Theon laughed a little, too, as the fat little boy scrambled to his feet. Arya held tight to Cadenzsa's waist.

"Can't we send a raven to Robb? My mother?" she whispered into her curls.

Cadenzsa turned and looked over her shoulder. "We'll see when we get to Grassfield Keep, my dancer."

"Why are we going there?"

"We can't talk now, little Lady," said Theon. "Come on, men, forward march double-time. We've stopped for too long." And then the company moved quickly, through the forest, through the meadows. The Ironborn didn't march in a military, uniform style. They dispersed, using stealth and the element of surprise. They did that in battle, so why not in travel? Arya had dozens of questions, of course, and Cadenzsa did her best to answer them as well she could, while balancing the bile in her belly and quelling the urge to be sick every time she smelled a new thing, all while riding through the meadows towards Grassfield Keep.

Soon, the beautiful castle was in sight, and the Ironborn appeared from all angles to surround it. They then came to the gates, the banner raised high in a sea of green and bordered with beautiful flowers in varying colors and shapes. And then came the young Lord, handsome enough with bright brown eyes and brown hair. He looked to be Cadenzsa's age, and when she came closer, she saw that his eyes had flecks of hazel and gold and green. He smiled, and Cadenzsa heard his heart skip a beat, and saw the red pulsing inside of him with her _Maegi _eyes.

Their herald came and bowed, who also fell madly in love with Cadenzsa as soon as he saw her. He gulped, his wide eyes on Cadenzsa's face. He then cleared his throat, and choked on his tongue a bit. The young Lord Meadows patted him on the shoulder, and stepped forward. "The South Welcomes you to Grassfield Keep, people of the Iron Islands. I am Lord Elwood Meadows, of Grassy Vale. May I say that Grassfield Keep is honored to be hosting royalty on both sides."

She sighed. _No wonder _Maisi_ wore that damn veil...the sound of hearing men fall in love with you is most exhausting after awhile. _

The pages dismounted their horses and Allon Pyke, their travelling herald, pageboy, and what-have-you, came in front. He bowed. "The Ironborn comes. Noble Lord," he said, "you are in the presence of his Grace, Prince Theon of the House Greyjoy, first of his name, heir to Pyke and the Iron Islands, Captain of the Leviathan. You are also in the presence of Her Grace, Princess Cadenzsa, second of her name, of the House Greyjoy, Mistress of the Iron Islands, Tamer of Waves, Sister to the Sirens, and Bringer of Gold."

"'Bringer of Gold?'" said young Lord Elwood.

"The House of my wife is far wealthier than the Lannisters of Casterly Rock will ever be," said Theon with a grin quite proud. "The Iron Bank of Braavos has records to prove that. You will find that the Iron Islands might be your neighbors, soon, in ruling the Westerlands, and Casterly Rock itself."

He smiled and bowed. "We might be welcome to that," said Lord Meadows, eyeing Cadenzsa. "And I must beg your forgiveness for staring, but I must say that your Lady wife is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, my Lord."

"'Your Grace,'" said Ser Claron atop his horse, looking down. "And you should kneel in the presence of royalty of the Iron Islands."

"That's most unnecessary," said Cadenzsa. "Lord Meadows is our most gracious host." Theon seemed rather annoyed at Cadenzsa's speaking, but in truth she just didn't feel like being knelt to while feeling as sick as she was. "Isn't that so, my sun-and-stars?"

"Aye," said Theon, "he's gracious and shall be rewarded for such, for his name and Grassfield Keep's name will be written in our history books for decades to come, should all go well. Has Stannis Baratheon come, yet?"

"He has, your Grace," said Lord Meadows, "and the King awaits you."

"Is he in good humor?" asked Cadenzsa, Theon shooting her a rather indignant look for 'asking such a stupid question'.

"As good a humor as King Stannis Baratheon can be, your Grace," he answered in a diplomatic way. Cadenzsa laughed, as did Arya.

"Show the Princess and our men to where they will be staying," said Theon, dismounting his horse and coming to Cadenzsa's side. "I'll speak with King Stannis as soon as he is ready." His hands came to Cadenzsa's waist, as she swung her leg over Horse's neck and dismounted with Theon's aid. Arya came down, next to her. Lord Meadows cocked his head in confusion.

"May I ask who this young lady is?"

"My cousin," answered Cadenzsa quickly. "Her name is Cat. She's not used to such long travelling. She's so pretty, isn't she?"

"Of course, your Grace," said Lord Meadows. He came and greeted Theon, then knelt and kissed Cadenzsa's hand. "Grassfield Keep is made brighter by your presence. We will feast you at sundown, if it pleases. It shall be grand, for the harvest this year has been most-plentiful in our grassy lands. Perhaps you should like to rest before negotiating with the King, your Grace?"

"I came to see Stannis, so I'll see Stannis. But see to it that her Grace is well taken care of."

"I shall personally see to it, your Grace," said Lord Meadows, still holding onto Cadenzsa's hand.

And so they were shown to a rather large suite, where Cadenzsa immediately collapsed on a bed so soft that it put hers in the Iron Islands to shame, and Darry and Qahari came in with her to unpack a few of her things. Qahari didn't even recognize Arya until Darry told her that it was the young Lady-wolf, and she nearly fainted over it. '_Your lovely hair!_' she had cried. Cadenzsa would have laughed were she in any spirit to do so.

"Do I have time to take a bath?" Cadenzsa asked, her face muffled into the pillow, her stomach twisted into about a thousand different knots.

"It looks as if you have two hours before sun-down, your Grace," said Darry. She then tickled Arya from behind, who was standing in the corner and looking out the window. She giggled and hooted. "We can get _you_ bathed, too, little Lady!"

"What are we doing here?" asked Arya through her laughter. "Why are we talking to Stannis Baratheon?"

"Because we are negotiating the terms of the Iron Islander independence, little girl," said Qahari, taking Arya's hand. "Now, come, let's get you out of those dirty things. I'm sure we can find something for you to wear."

"Are we siding with Stannis Baratheon? So there's only going to be Five Kingdoms, now?"

"Five glorious Kingdoms, all united by House Baratheon," said Cadenzsa into her pillow, then turning over and stretching out. She gave herself a sniff, and decided that with a few dabs of perfumed oil she would smell sweet as a flower, again.

"Would you like to bathe before the feast, your Grace?" asked Darry, coming to Cadenzsa's side.

The Princess stood up and stretched, then went and sat in a rather large chair, letting her long curls flow down to the floor. "No, just get me a pitcher with water. I don't have the strength to bathe, today. It's not like I sweated very much, anyhow." Qahari came with Cadenzsa's golden hair brush. "And have somebody alert me to the instant Theon goes to speak with Stannis Baratheon."

She heard Qahari gasp. "But, your Grace, the Prince has already gone and spoken to the King."

"What?!" Cadenzsa stood up in shock, causing Qahari to gasp and drop the precious brush to the carpeted floor. "When?"

"As soon as everyone had been settled in," said Darry. Cadenzsa began to grumble and growl and pace.

"I am going to strangle him with my bare hands...!" she nearly shouted. "Quickly, now! Choose the nicest gown I have. And find my crown, the black-diamond one. I'll need to look like a Queen for this."

* * *

Wow, we've found Arya in the woods! Isn't that amazingly exciting?

I realize that the timing might be a little bit off, but keep something in mind: Now that Theon's back in the picture, as is Cadenzsa, the battle of the Blackwater is being postponed to...well, soon. I might even have them seige King's Landing with the Iron Fleet! But we shall see. Essosi sellswords are flocking to Cadenzsa Forel's side, now, for her name is well known in Braavos and they're joining her side, thanks to the influence of her family. The Forels are a Great House of the Secret City of Braavos, and their influence is pretty darn big. They own quite a bit of the Iron Bank, and there's a _lot_ going on across the Narrow Sea.

A princess being raised up from Braavos? A big financial/economic shift? These are exciting times, and word travels fast amongst the Forel clan. So now things are going different. Cool? So, Arya's escaped from the Lannister encampment, and has that Iron Penny in her pocket. Where will it come in handy? YOU SHALL SEE! MWAHAHAHAA!

By the way, thanks so much for all the favorites and follows...and keep in mind, the more reviews I get, the faster I post things! MWAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA GIVE ME ATTENTION LOLOLOLOL!

Look out for the next chapter of "The Second Sword of Braavos" soon. It's going to be ending in a few chapters, so get ready for a VERY EXCITING FINALE.


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